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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23681296">A Day, Today</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>ATEEZ (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Canon Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurities, Panic Attacks, Platonic Relationships, Sickfic, Team as Family, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Vomiting, comes with the angst territory i guess, hongjoong has a shitty day, injuries, it's literally 20k of one day in ateez's life buckle up, longass internal monologues, san has a shitty day, they all try to help but sometimes things just suck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:14:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>21,104</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23681296</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hongjoong has a lot of concerns.</p><p>Today, his concerns are mainly about whether or not San will be able to stand on his own two legs at the end of the day.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Choi San &amp; Kim Hongjoong, OT8 - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>200</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Day, Today</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi, hello, welcome to a shithole. This isn't a great fic, it has not been edited or proofread whatsoever, and I am breaking roughly 8 out of 12 writing rules I have for myself, so yeah, it's not a great time. I think to myself that hey, let's just write a short hurt/comfort from canon, everybody loves that. But instead my brain goes like that's cool, but what if this fucking industry took about three steps back and just shat on itself. </p><p>This is based off that one Wonderland performance where San had like a one-second blackout on stage, because I cried. I don't think everyone noticed, and hopefully it wasn't as bad as it looked. Hence this fic is shittily intrusive, it's purely a what-if, I don't know what happens backstage and no one has said anything about it, so there's that. I wasn't even sure if I should post it, but mhmmhmhmh here we are. Also, Ateez's managers are way more present and nice in real life, so their minimal role here is just to increase member interaction and PAIN.</p><p>It shines violently through that this was supposed to be three scenes long and then I just kept extrapolating. It also shows that there was no detailed planning going into this. Sorry not sorry, that's just how it is kids. Have fucking 20k of Ateez just going about their daily business. Hongjoong has a lot of repetitive, internal monologue because you know thoughts be like that and he has a shit time. Whoopdedoop.</p><p>Also, this is fairly graphic and not glamorous at all, please heed the tags. Let me know if I forgot something.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hongjoong hates mornings with a passion.</p><p> </p><p>This opinion is very incompatible with the idol lifestyle. The idol lifestyle requires early mornings, few hours of sleep, and very little predictability on top of it all. None of which match very well with Hongjoong’s self-deprecating tendencies to stay up late to produce music, so maybe some of this is his own fault.</p><p> </p><p>He will not admit to that. Instead, he will say it is his duty as the group leader to forego sleep and comfort for creative endeavors. He will also insist that he works better at night because night is the only part of the day he gets any kind of peace.  </p><p> </p><p>All of this is mostly true.</p><p> </p><p>But there is a small silver lining to being an idol group leader – yes, he has to get up early and so on and so forth, but at least he gets the small sadistic pleasure of waking up the rest of them. Which, if he were Seonghwa, would be a gentle and kind affair.</p><p> </p><p>He is not Seonghwa, and he is not a morning person, so his methods are not gentle and kind.</p><p> </p><p>Instead, he pushes open the door to Yunho and San’s room with a bang, clearing his throat loudly to announce his arrival to his first unfortunate victims of the day.</p><p> </p><p>“Wake up, my little ducklings,” he coos into the darkness of the room. There’s a groan from somewhere near the beds, but neither Yunho nor San moves to get up.</p><p> </p><p>He clicks his tongue and pulls out his phone.</p><p> </p><p>If he has to suffer through the early morning hours of idol life, so do they.</p><p> </p><p>“Rise and shine,” he tries again, and walks up to the bed. Still no reaction.</p><p> </p><p>That’s fine.</p><p> </p><p>He flicks the screen on his phone and turns on the flashlight – right in Yunho’s face.</p><p> </p><p>The animalistic whine Yunho lets out as he rolls over and out of the bed is just a little bit too satisfying, and Hongjoong giggles.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on, children,” he claps his hands. “New day, new morning. New shit to do.”</p><p> </p><p>“Where is my contract?” Yunho mumbles into the floor. “I want to set it on fire. This isn’t worth the effort.”</p><p> </p><p>“Lies,” Hongjoong snorts, and looks up at the top bunk. San is still curled up underneath his duvet and close to the wall on the opposite side of the bed, blanket pulled high up over his head.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong kind of thinks Yunho and San is a bad bedroom combination, because they are both heavy and long sleepers, so they’re no help at all in getting each other up – unlike Wooyoung and Yeosang, where Yeosang is dutiful enough to whack Wooyoung’s ass out of bed, and Mingi and Jongho, where Jongho is enough of a morning person to remind Mingi to get up in time. But at least Yunho and San knock out fast when they go to bed at night, so it kind of works out okay.</p><p> </p><p>Though right now, he wishes Yunho would be able to assist him in reaching over to nudge San awake.</p><p> </p><p>Because Yunho is, regretfully, truly blessed in ways Hongjoong himself is not.</p><p> </p><p>Specifically the height department.</p><p> </p><p>But Yunho is currently rolling around on the floor, trying to find the will to get up and start another day of recordings and performances, so Hongjoong is on his own this time.</p><p> </p><p>He walks around to the short side of the bunk bed, and climbs a bit up using Yunho’s bed as a ladder. It’s just enough for him to poke his head over the edge, somewhere in the vicinity of San’s pillow. He only really sees tufts of dark hair sticking out from San’s cocoon, but that’s all he needs.</p><p> </p><p>“The world’s smallest mountain…” He calls softly, reaching out to ruffle the hair. San only moans a little in response, refusing to move. “Wake up.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why’re you so much nicer to him?” Yunho moans from the floor. “I thought I was your favourite.”</p><p> </p><p>“You are, but I’m giving him a chance because he’s on the top bed and that inconveniences me,” Hongjoong glances down at him. “D’you hear that, Sannie? You better get up now.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hyung…” San’s whine is partially drowned out by his covers, but it sounds pitiful enough.</p><p> </p><p>Well.</p><p> </p><p>That’s not going to help – they have a schedule to follow, and so they all need to get up.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry, San-ah, but I did warn you,” Hongjoong sighs dramatically and turns on the flashlight on his phone again just as he grabs a fistful of blanket and pulls it off San’s face.</p><p> </p><p>He expects a shriek and a chaotic whirr of limbs and maybe even a smack to the face. But instead, he just gets a pitiful whimper as San brings an arm up to cover his eyes, uncharacteristically void of vigor.</p><p> </p><p>He frowns.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on, San,” he tries again, trying for a little bit more authoritative even as he puts away his phone. The flash has done its job by now. “You need to get up. I’m serious.”</p><p> </p><p>“Please, hyung…” San mumbles into his arm, and he sounds so young and tired that Hongjoong is momentarily taken aback.</p><p> </p><p>“He didn’t sleep well last night,” Yunho comments as he struggles to pick up a change of clothes from the closet. “Kept tossing and turning and stuff.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmf ‘m sorry,” San mumbles from the bed.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong sighs heavily.</p><p> </p><p>“This is why coffee and caffeinated drinks aren’t allowed after dinner,” he tuts. “Doesn’t matter now. You’re going to have to get up anyway, Sannie.”</p><p> </p><p>And normally, that’s enough. Normally, San is relatively obedient, at least when it comes to schedules and planning. Not like Mingi and Wooyoung, who would both very happily forego their idol duties if it meant a few more hours of sleep.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong is very happy that Seonghwa is the one waking those nutheads.</p><p> </p><p>But today, San seems to have taken a page out of their books, refusing to move even when Hongjoong brings out his leader-voice.</p><p> </p><p>“Didn’t have any coffee…” San mumbles instead, and it’s quiet enough for Hongjoong to barely hear, but he does, and frowns.</p><p> </p><p>“Is something wrong, Sannie?” He asks carefully, gently prying San’s arm away from his face. Even through the dim light, he can see San’s eyes scrunched closed in discomfort.</p><p> </p><p>San groans quietly, and that’s not a yes or no, which is also mildly concerning.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong reaches out to touch his forehead as Yunho takes his leave to the bathroom.</p><p> </p><p>He frowns.</p><p> </p><p>That is definitely a fever. Not too bad, but enough to be a cause of concern. San sighs and leans into Hongjoong’s cold fingers, and Hongjoong feels something sink deep in his stomach.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sick?” He asks gently, brushing the hair away from San’s eyes. If he is, then Hongjoong feels terribly guilty for pushing a flashlight in his face so early in the morning.</p><p> </p><p>In his defense, it’s usually only a nuisance.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t think so…” San mumbles, eyes cracking open a little bit. “Just tired.”</p><p> </p><p>“No itchy throat or clogged nose?” Hongjoong inquires.</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>“Headache?”</p><p> </p><p>“No… Yes… Just a little bit.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Hongjoong says, doing his best to keep from sighing. He can already tell this is going to be a long day. It’s never good when one of them gets sick – whether it’s a small headache, a cold, or full-blown injury.</p><p> </p><p>And San is not exactly known for being cooperative when it comes to his own health and well-being.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll come back in a bit and we’ll see how bad it is, alright?” He says, reaching out to tug San’s blanket back up around his shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry,” San mutters quietly. “I know we have schedules… I’ll get up soon.”</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong snorts softly and shakes his head.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay,” he murmurs soothingly, still feeling slightly guilty for waking San up like that when he’s not feeling well. “Just sleep for a while longer, yeah? Do you want us to save you some breakfast?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, thank you,” San mumbles into the pillow, and Hongjoong barely catches it, but it’s enough.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” he smiles weakly and reaches out to pat San’s hair. “Then go back to sleep now.”</p><p> </p><p>“If you wake me just before we go, I’ll be fine,” San promises, snuggling into Hongjoong’s touch. “I’ll get ready in no time, I promise.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure,” Hongjoong nods and climbs down from the bed with a small frown.</p><p> </p><p>He’s going to have to force some breakfast down San’s throat eventually, but he’s learned not to underestimate the value of rest. Even half an hour can make all the difference in the world, so it will have to do.</p><p> </p><p>He gently closes the door behind him and goes to find Seonghwa in the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>About half the group has made it there already, Yunho snoring into his coffee and Yeosang sipping his with considerably more grace, while Wooyoung seems to be eating his cereal on autopilot.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” Hongjoong moves over to the counter where Seonghwa is preparing his tea.</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm?” Seonghwa doesn’t look up, but gives a small nod to indicate he’s listening.</p><p> </p><p>“San’s not feeling too good today,” Hongjoong continues quietly, glancing over at the other members discreetly. “He didn’t want any breakfast, but… Could you prepare like a small snack or something to bring along?”</p><p> </p><p>Seonghwa pauses as he pulls out the teabag and tosses it in the trash.</p><p> </p><p>“Sure,” he agrees eventually. “Is he well enough to come, though?”</p><p> </p><p>“I hope so,” Hongjoong winces, hearing his own worries volleyed back at him. “I think… He’s just a bit under the weather. We’ll see once he gets up.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Seonghwa agrees. “I’ll keep an eye on him. It wouldn’t be good to have more members out of commission right now…”</p><p> </p><p>“Tell me about it,” Hongjoong sighs, looking at Jongho limping into the kitchen. When both Mingi and Jongho are working at limited capacity, it wouldn’t be good to lose another member to illness in the middle of promotions, but he can’t hold it against San either. It’s not his fault.</p><p> </p><p>Seonghwa picks up his tea and gives Hongjoong a small pat on the back.</p><p> </p><p>It’s supposed to be a reassurance, and Hongjoong forces himself to think it’s a promise.</p><p> </p><p>It makes the lonely shower a little easier to get through.</p><p> </p><p>Then the day starts.</p><p> </p><p>They have fittings at the company first thing in the morning, then an interview, and then rehearsals before the afternoon’s music stage and a catch-up practice at the company in the evening. It’s a lot, but it’s just how things work out during comeback periods. Short nights, long days, packed schedules.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong keeps an eye on San as they filter into the company van, tucked against Yunho’s side. He looks pale and distracted, not even pretending to participate in the usual banter that fills the early-morning rides.</p><p> </p><p>But at least he’s walking. Standing on his own two legs, even If Yunho has him wrapped in some sort of cocoon embrace.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong winces. When did such a little thing as standing upright become a good sign, and not just the bare minimum?</p><p> </p><p>He wants to slap himself, but has to keep his twitching hands at his side as he falls back against the seat in the van. He’s just being paranoid – people get sick all the time. People get colds, and it’s not a big deal. He’s just on the edge after Mingi and Jongho.</p><p> </p><p>Besides, San is persistent, he thinks. San has all kinds of magic switches up his sleeve, and Hongjoong has never seen him defeated by anything besides his own head. Maybe he had been more concerned if it were Yeosang or Seonghwa; they don’t bounce back so easily.</p><p> </p><p>But San will. Hongjoong knows he can trust San.</p><p> </p><p>He repeats the thought to himself like a mantra as they leave the dorms for the day.</p><p> </p><p>Fittings is uneventful and largely an easy affair; it doesn’t require much from them besides standing upright, lifting their arms a little and giving input when needed (which frankly, isn’t often).</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong spends the majority of the time discussing with the coordinators and designers, taking some pride in being trusted enough by the company to be able to participate in concept design and stage outfits. He likes to think he’s contributed to creating the group’s unique style, because they are not just humouring him – a lot of his suggestions end up making the final cut.</p><p> </p><p>It’s gratifying in the same way as when the management accepts his self-produced songs; it makes him feel powerful and meaningful, like he’s not just another face in the industry. Like his position as ATEEZ’s leader really means something beyond a title and interview responsibilities.</p><p> </p><p>It’s also a nice way to highlight the members – Hongjoong knows what suits each of them, not just according to the lines of their bodies or their current hair colours, but also their personality, their style. He knows he’s not doing the bulk of the work, he’s not even making any outlines or executive decisions; but it’s the small things, like the incorporation of the compass, or giving the long coat to Mingi rather than Yunho. How Wooyoung should get shirts and not jumpers, Yeosang’s glittering accessories match his eyes, that kind of stuff.</p><p> </p><p>In the midst of it all, he almost forgets about San and his worrying condition. When he glances over at the waiting couch, he sees him slumped against Jongho’s side, napping or at least resting. Jongho is talking to Seonghwa and Yeosang, but has one arm across San’s shoulder, thumb discreetly rubbing soothing circles over San’s arm.</p><p> </p><p>The sight tugs at Hongjoong’s heartstrings.</p><p> </p><p>For how tough Jongho seems, and how little he enjoys skinship compared to the rest of them, he is protective of his bandmates. San in particular often seem to get a pass when it comes to physical proximity and expressions of affections; Hongjoong isn’t sure exactly why, but maybe San’s just insistent enough that Jongho has given up on refusing him. Maybe Jongho has a soft spot for him.</p><p> </p><p>Whatever it is, it’s enough for Jongho to not just accept, but also offer physical comfort to San when he needs it. Just like now.</p><p> </p><p>It’s a bittersweet observation.</p><p> </p><p>San had refused the breakfast snack Seonghwa had offered him earlier, and to Hongjoong’s knowledge, he still hasn’t eaten anything today. There’s a bottle of vitamin water on the table in front of them, half-empty, but Hongjoong can’t tell if it’s Jongho’s or San’s.</p><p> </p><p>He makes a mental note to follow up on that thought later as he’s whisked away for more consultations.</p><p> </p><p>The fittings end soon enough, and a manager fetches them for their next stop of the day – an interview down in Gangnam, a fair drive down from the company that would have been perfect for a nap if it wasn’t so early in the day still.</p><p>As they all start gathering their belongings and picking up their backpacks, Hongjoong pulls San aside with a serious look. San staggers a little, blinks at him tiredly through half-focused eyes.</p><p> </p><p>He looks awful, objectively speaking. His hair is mussed up and although he’s still pale and clammy, there’s a slight flush to his cheeks that wasn’t there earlier this morning. Hongjoong can also see dark shadows under his eyes despite a half-hearted attempt of hiding them with concealer, and he remembers what Yunho had said when he woke them up. That San hadn’t slept well that night.</p><p> </p><p>He winces a little. San really isn’t in a good state.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you want to sit out on this one?” He asks carefully, watching as the question sinks in.</p><p> </p><p>It doesn’t, from the looks of it. San just blinks at him again, cocking his head slightly to the side.</p><p> </p><p>“What?” He croaks, like he just woke up. It’s not too far from the truth – he’d been sleeping against Jongho’s shoulder when the manager had started to round them up a few minutes ago.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong sighs.</p><p> </p><p>“The interview,” he specifies. “Do you want to go back to the dorms and have a rest instead? You should save your energy for the show tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong can probably convince their managers to let San skip the interview. The performance, on the other hand – that’s a little bit worse. It’s easy enough to miss a member during interviews. On stage, however, there’s choreography, song parts…</p><p> </p><p>And San, in particular, is not exactly easy to replace on the spot.</p><p> </p><p>“I…” San glances back at the other members. “No, it’s okay. I think that would be worse.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” Hongjoong raises an eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>“Well,” San squirms in discomfort. “I don’t want everyone to drive around extra because of me. And everyone’s tired, so it’s not really fair for me to sit out.”</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong can read between the lines. San thinks he won’t be able to relax without feeling guilty.</p><p> </p><p>And that, unfortunately, is not something Hongjoong can do anything about.</p><p> </p><p>“If you’re sure,” he relents hesitantly. “But you have to tell me if it gets worse, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll let you know,” San agrees, but Hongjoong doesn’t think he will. It’s not that he thinks San would intentionally lie to him – but he just doesn’t trust San to put his own well-being above anything that may inconvenience the group even slightly.</p><p> </p><p>Still.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t know what else to do.</p><p> </p><p>“Just sit upright and try to look alive,” he says, only half-joking. “We’ll tell them you’re not feeling well, so they won’t direct more questions to you than they have to.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay,” San smiles up at him, but it’s not as radiant as usual, nor as comforting. “I won’t let anyone see.”</p><p> </p><p>“No one’s going to blame you for being a bit under the weather,” Hongjoong points out.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want Atiny to worry,” San brushes him off shakily. “I’ll keep up.”</p><p> </p><p>“Just don’t push yourself,” Hongjoong warns, squeezing San’s shoulder. “It’s not worth it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll keep up,” San repeats insistently, and smiles brightly, as if to prove his point.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong sees through it, the way the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes and the small tremble at the corner of his lips – but he doesn’t have the heart to call San out for it.</p><p> </p><p>Instead, he just sighs and shepherds San back into the van.</p><p> </p><p>He meets Seonghwa’s eyes from the backseat, and they are questioning and displeased. Not accusing, but empathizing, and Hongjoong briefly wonders if Seonghwa would have done anything different if he’d been in Hongjoong’s place.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe.</p><p> </p><p>But Hongjoong doesn’t have the answers, and neither does Seonghwa, so they will just have to make the best of what they have.</p><p> </p><p>San cuddles up to Wooyoung, and Hongjoong tries to pretend everything’s normal.</p><p> </p><p>San seems eager to do the same, because much to Hongjoong’s fascination and irritation, San does exactly what he promised once they get to the interview.</p><p> </p><p>With the exception of a few distracted moments that could almost <em>(almost) </em>be played for laughs, San does an excellent job of pretending to be completely fine and healthy. The make-up hides the flush on his cheeks and he keeps pinching his own thigh to look bright and awake. If they weren’t being taped, Hongjoong would smack him and tell him to just stay quiet, for once.</p><p> </p><p>It’s not worth it, that’s the problem. They do interviews all the time. San doesn’t have to be a part of the joker group every single time. He can be funny in the next one – this interview doesn’t matter more than the next one.</p><p> </p><p>San doesn’t want to realize that.</p><p> </p><p>San just wants to be good. All the time. Doesn’t want to make concessions or reservations even once.</p><p> </p><p>And while Hongjoong understands where he’s coming from – while he understands the value of giving one hundred percent all the time – he wishes things were different.</p><p> </p><p>They all need a break, that’s what it is. It’s easy to push themselves when they’re doing something they love, and the busy idol scene encourages constant activity, so there is no one else stopping them for a moment of respite either.</p><p> </p><p>ATEEZ has been riding on the momentum of their increasing popularity ever since their debut, and Hongjoong knows the management is all too eager to keep spinning the wheels to keep their popularity growing. It’s a necessity; with the competition being as it is, it doesn’t take long for a group to become outdated or replaced by another younger, fresher group with similar concepts.</p><p> </p><p>But now they’re feeling it. The weight of the constant reach for more – more groundbreaking music, more outrageous dance moves, more content for their fans to enjoy. Pushing the peak higher and higher.</p><p> </p><p>At some point they have to stop.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong knows it’s a realization that’s been hovering on the edge of his consciousness for a while now, and maybe this is the breaking point. They can’t bench a third member. Maybe a cold is enough to tip the scales. Quit while they’re ahead.</p><p> </p><p>Something like that, anyway.</p><p> </p><p>But later, when they’ve hit backstage and are preparing for their costuming and make-up for the performance, Hongjoong has given up on trying to fool himself.</p><p> </p><p>San isn’t well, and if it’s a cold, it’s not just a small one. Or maybe it started out that way, but the continuous hassle of the day has done him no favours.</p><p> </p><p>They have just settled into the room they’ve borrowed for the evening, but San is already curled up on the couch while the other members are milling about, filming small snippets for their fans, playing games, searching for snacks. Normally San would be in the center of the storm, but not tonight.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong sits down across from him and frowns, looking at San’s clammy neck and the pallor on his cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>San doesn’t look up, but Hongjoong can’t tell if it’s because he didn’t notice him, or if he just doesn’t have the energy.</p><p> </p><p>Something in Hongjoong’s stomach curls uncomfortably.</p><p> </p><p>“San-ah,” he says gently, reaching out to rub at San’s knee.</p><p> </p><p>“Hm?” San blinks and stares at him in confusion through long bangs. His eyes are puffy and without the usual stage make-up, it’s painfully evident how young he really looks.</p><p> </p><p>“I need you to answer honestly,” Hongjoong starts, squeezing San’s knee for emphasis. “Can you perform tonight? Will you be okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course,” San answers without missing a beat, though his voice is thick and sleepy. His gaze falls to his lap, eyes threatening to fall closed again. “Don’t worry. It won’t be a problem.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure?” Hongjoong presses, even though he knows it’s futile. If given the choice, San will always give too much of himself to the fans. To the team. If asked, San will always say yes.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong wishes they were all better at saying no once in a while.</p><p> </p><p>And, as expected, San nods wearily, not even looking up from his lap.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll be fine,” he mumbles, and Hongjoong’s stomach twists –he doesn’t even try to pretend anymore.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” he sighs, not knowing what else to say or do. He stands up and ruffles San’s hair slightly as he walks past. “Get some rest, then.”</p><p> </p><p>San pats his hand in acknowledgement as he withdraws. It’s a pitiful touch, but Hongjoong is grateful for it nonetheless.</p><p> </p><p>He finds Seonghwa and Jongho by the restrooms nearby, Jongho leaning on Seonghwa slightly due to his injured foot. It’s not all that bad anymore, but none of them want him walk around alone in these crowded hallways – it’s too easy to be jostled or tripped on accident, and they really don’t need it go get any worse.</p><p> </p><p>Even stubborn, proud Jongho acknowledges that.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” Hongjoong greets. “Uh, did you – has San eaten anything yet today? He’s not looking too good right now, but he insists he’ll be fine to perform, so…”</p><p> </p><p>“Not that I know,” Seonghwa shakes his head sadly. “He didn’t want any snacks earlier, and I don’t think he had anything for lunch.”</p><p> </p><p>“He had some juice before the interview, I think,” Jongho frowns. “But that’s not really enough, so… He said he’s nauseous, but maybe that’s passed now.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, thanks,” Hongjoong grits his teeth. “I’ll try to force something into him.”</p><p> </p><p>“Let us know if there’s anything we can do,” Seonghwa says quietly and Jongho nods next to him.</p><p> </p><p>“Sure,” Hongjoong forces a smile. “How’re you holding up, Jongho?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine,” Jongho brushes him off easily. “I’m not even allowed to go to the bathroom on my own, so – “</p><p> </p><p>“I was heading there anyway!”</p><p> </p><p>“Hyung, you literally jumped from your chair when I was about to leave – “</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, you kids have fun,” Hongjoong excuses himself with a fond eyeroll as he goes to search for the remaining members.</p><p> </p><p>He finds Wooyoung and Yeosang around the clothes rack, doing some filming. Rather than interrupting outright, Hongjoong makes eye contact with Yeosang and makes some vague gestures he hopes conveys that he wants to talk to them when they’re done filming. Yeosang is, blessedly, one of the more perceptive members of the group, and only flashes him a thumbs up outside of the camera frame.</p><p> </p><p>Wooyoung briefly glances in his direction, and judging by the flash of something across his face, Hongjoong thinks Wooyoung has caught on as well.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t have to look for Yunho after that, because Yunho approaches him as soon enough.</p><p> </p><p>“Hyung, can I talk to you for a sec?” He mumbles, glancing back into their borrowed room uncertainly.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong blinks.</p><p> </p><p>“Sure, sure,” he agrees, taking a step to the side so they won’t be in anyone’s way. “What’s up?”</p><p> </p><p>Yunho shifts uncomfortably, scratching his elbow like he always does when he’s uncertain.</p><p> </p><p>It’s a discomforting sign to Hongjoong, who always regards Yunho as one of the more… Stable, or steadfast members of the group. It takes a lot to rattle him, and even when they’re premiering new songs, going to new venues, or recording with big seniors, Yunho is at most anticipating – rarely nervous or unsettled.</p><p> </p><p>But now, his discomfort is almost tangible.</p><p> </p><p>“I just…” he starts quietly, meeting Hongjoong’s eyes with something akin to a plea. “San’s not doing well, it hasn’t really gotten better during the day, and I thought… I mean, is it okay for him to perform?”</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong chews his lip.</p><p> </p><p>It’s the same question that’s been haunting him – he shouldn’t be surprised that someone else has the same doubts.</p><p> </p><p>Still, he’s not sure what to answer. Should he confirm Yunho’s concerns or reassure him that everything will be fine? What’s the consequences either way? Yunho isn’t the type to get distracted on stage, but there’s no reason to worry him unnecessarily…</p><p> </p><p>Maybe it doesn’t matter what Hongjoong says.</p><p> </p><p>Yunho will believe his own eyes, not Hongjoong’s words – he will worry regardless, Hongjoong knows that much. He’s just too empathic.</p><p> </p><p>No, he hasn’t searched Hongjoong out for reassurances.</p><p> </p><p>He’s just trying to look out for San.</p><p> </p><p>The thought warms Hongjoong’s heart. It’s small, but today, he’ll take any small comfort he can get.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve been asking myself the same thing,” he eventually admits with a heavy sigh. “But it’s… It’s difficult, Yunho. We don’t have a replacement for him, and I don’t know what ramifications it’ll have if we cancel the performance. I’m not sure if we even can, at this point.”</p><p> </p><p>“But he…” Yunho licks his lips. “Hyung, he’s sick.”</p><p> </p><p>“He is,” Hongjoong agrees woefully. “I know. What do you think we should do?”</p><p> </p><p>Yunho looks momentarily aback at being asked for his opinion. He blinks, glancing back into the room. They can barely see the top of San’s head peeking up the back of the couch, but that doesn’t tell them anything.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know either,” Yunho admits sheepishly. “I’m just worried about him. Is there anything I can do…?”</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong can’t help but smile fondly at him. Good Yunho, heaven-sent Yunho.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think he’s eaten anything today,” he says with a small wince. “Do you – can you see if you can find any easy food? Something he might want to eat?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course,” Yunho nods eagerly, looking almost relieved to have something to do. “I’ll have a look – there’s a convenience store around the corner, I think, but there’s a vending machine just down the hall…”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t have to run across the city,” Hongjoong chuckles quietly, patting his shoulder. “Just – anything, something will be good, I think.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay.” Yunho nods again. “Okay. I’ll – I’ll have a look.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks Yunho, you’re a doll,” Hongjoong grins as Yunho takes off, long legs carrying him down the corridor eagerly.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong’s grin fades into a small, fond smile as he watches him go. Hopefully Yunho can find some magic remedy in the form of… Well, something so irresistible that San will happily eat at least a bit of it.</p><p> </p><p>When he gets back into the dressing room, San is still half-sleeping on the couch, so he goes to help their stylists unpack the outfits for the day. This time, it’s midnight blue uniforms of various kinds, and Hongjoong hums appreciatively at the details. He doesn’t like the fabric as much – not terribly stretchy, definitely not breathable and by extension, shitty to wear on stage – but there’s always worse choices.</p><p> </p><p>He remembers going on stage in pleather.</p><p> </p><p>That made him question every single decision he’d ever made in his life leading up to that point. He and Mingi had, just for fun, written a rap about the woes of wearing pleather and leather and plastic on stage after that. It had been quite fun, but not really something publishable. Not everything has to be, they’d decided amongst themselves. When Seonghwa asked, later that day, if they’d been productive during their writing session, they had both promised that it had been a very useful day, indeed.</p><p> </p><p>So in hindsight, maybe this velvet-polyester thing isn’t too bad.</p><p> </p><p>The undershirts definitely help – thin cotton, much better for friction, if nothing else. They’re going to get sweaty anyway, given their choreography, so at least this won’t chafe as badly.</p><p> </p><p>Halfway through the unpacking, he sees Yeosang return, this time without a camera. He makes eyecontact and quickly waves him over.</p><p> </p><p>“Where’s Wooyoung?” He asks when it’s clear that Yeosang’s coming alone. “Have you lost him?”</p><p> </p><p>“I couldn’t if I tried,” Yeosang remarks drily. “He was called away for make-up. So was I, but I wanted to check what you wanted first. Is something wrong? Aside from, well…”</p><p> </p><p>He nods towards San at the couch.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong huffs.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, no, it’s… It’s him,” he sighs. “I just… Has he said anything to you today? He says he’s good to perform, but has he said anything else to any of you?”</p><p> </p><p>The implication that San might not trust him enough to tell him if he’s too sick to perform hurts, even if it might not be true. But he has to acknowledge it as a possibility.</p><p> </p><p>But Yeosang is quick to shake his head, easing one of Hongjoong’s thousand concerns. “He didn’t. He just said he was a bit tired…”</p><p> </p><p>“Right,” Hongjoong resists the urge to roll his eyes. “Did you see him eat anything today? He skipped breakfast, but other than that I…”</p><p> </p><p>He trails off.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think so,” Yeosang shrugs. “He didn’t want anything after the interview. Wooyoung offered him some crisps, but he refused. Is there anything we can do?”</p><p> </p><p>“No thank you,” Hongjoong smiles, touched that their group is so eager to help one another. It warms his heart and gives him just a shred of optimism. “I suspected as much, so Yunho’s already looking for something.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Yeosang nods. “Just let us know?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course,” Hongjoong agrees. “Now, run along to your make-up.”</p><p> </p><p>Yeosang does obediently, and not long after, Yunho returns with a small plastic bag and a hopeful smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing heavy,” he winks at Hongjoong as they approach the coach.</p><p> </p><p>“Good,” Hongjoong says, patting his elbow before kneeling down in front of the couch. “Sannie?”</p><p> </p><p>At first, San doesn’t react, and when Hongjoong takes a closer look, he sees the earbuds poking out between dark hair. So he reaches out and gently tugs at San’s hand instead.</p><p> </p><p>“Sannie?” He asks again, slightly louder, and this time, San stirs, waking to take out his earbuds.</p><p> </p><p>“Hyung?” He mumbles groggily, sitting up slowly. He blinks up at Yunho and then down again at Hongjoong. “Do you need something?”</p><p> </p><p>Yunho pulls a container of porridge from his bag and sets it on the table, smiling brightly at San.</p><p> </p><p>“Breakfast, lunch and dinner in one,” he says cheerfully, and it’s forced, it’s awfully forced, but San doesn’t call him out on it, and neither will Hongjoong.</p><p> </p><p>“Yunho…” San looks up at him sadly, cradling his head in his hand. “I can’t…”</p><p> </p><p>It’s so off-putting to see the two of them like this. No jokes, no wild discussion or playful flailing arms.</p><p> </p><p>So far from their usual dynamic.</p><p> </p><p>“Sannie, please,” Hongjoong begs, shoving the container forward. “You need to eat. Just a little. You can’t go out there on an empty stomach.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry, hyung,” San looks over at him, and he genuinely sounds apologetic. It just makes Hongjoong feel worse. “I… If I eat anything, I’m gonna throw up.”</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong purses his lips.</p><p> </p><p>He wishes he had forced San to stay home at the dorms – wishes he had used the leader card more strictly.</p><p> </p><p>But it wouldn’t have been any good, he knows – with two members already missing, they don’t have a makeshift formation to cover for San’s absence, no assistant dancers to take his place, and cancelling their performance is not an option with the management at this point.</p><p> </p><p>He will repeat that argument to himself until he believes it’s a justified one.</p><p> </p><p>“Is there anything you can hold down?” He presses, leans forward to run a hand across San’s forehead. He’s still warm. Feverish. “It doesn’t have to be heavy food, just anything nutritious, like… A biscuit? Yoghurt? Smoothie? Yunho will get it for you in no time.”</p><p> </p><p>Next to him, Yunho nods eagerly.</p><p> </p><p>“No, no it’s fine, he doesn’t have to,” San almost chokes around the words, shaking his head slightly, and Hongjoong belatedly realizes that maybe this is the wrong approach – San doesn’t like it when people go out of their way for him, when he feels like they have to make concessions for him. It’s something he hasn’t really said out loud, not explicitly at least, but Hongjoong has been around San long enough to read the signs.</p><p> </p><p>He curses himself.</p><p> </p><p>“We have all kinds of food here, San,” he tries instead, hoping it’s enough. They don’t, but Hongjoong doubts San will tell the difference if Yunho goes to his bag or the convenience store at this point.  “Anything you want, we have it here. It’s not a problem for anyone, we’re just worried about you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry…” San repeats again, eyes downcast as he lets himself lean into Hongjoong’s touch. “I swear, I would, but…”</p><p> </p><p>“Water, at least?” Hongjoong insists. “I know it’s hard, but you’ve got to give me something, San.”</p><p> </p><p>He picks up one of the bottles from the table, nudging it against San’s limp hands.</p><p> </p><p>After a beat, San takes it.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll try,” he promises, looking up at Hongjoong with shining eyes and the hint of a smile.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong tries his best to ignore the pallor and cold sweat, instead focusing only on that precious smile. It’s almost good enough.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” he relents, smiling as he pats San’s cheek gently. “But let me know if you need anything, or if you change your mind or – yeah, just talk to me, alright? You’re giving me grey hairs already.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s the hairdresser, not me,” San chirps, and Hongjoong lets himself chuckle.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe, just maybe, it’s going to be okay.</p><p> </p><p>San is strong.</p><p> </p><p>San can persevere. That’s San’s specialty, after all – take adversity and make it his biggest strength.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong repeats it to himself as he leaves San on the couch and takes Yunho to get their hair styled.</p><p> </p><p>The good thing about the chair – it’s almost like a break, where he just has to sit still and wait while the stylists do their job.</p><p> </p><p>The bad thing about the chair – he has so much time to think if his stylist isn’t a chatty one.</p><p> </p><p>Thinking leads to worrying.</p><p> </p><p>In truth, it’s not up to him if San performs or not – even if he asks and prods at San, it’s not like Hongjoong could change anything with the snap of his fingers. It’s not really his decision to make.</p><p> </p><p>He both wishes it was and is grateful that it isn’t, guilty as it makes him feel. He is grateful that it isn’t up to him – if he can’t make the choice, he can’t make the wrong choice. That’s fair. It’s cowardly, and he hates himself for appreciating it even a little bit, but it’s fair.</p><p> </p><p>But mostly, at the end of the day, he really, really wishes he had a chance to affect his team’s wellbeing.</p><p> </p><p>Because Hongjoong worries.</p><p> </p><p>He worries a lot.</p><p> </p><p>It’s not a secret, not really – it comes as a part of the leader role, to always be concerned about the wellbeing of his team and its members.  He hasn’t made any attempts to hide it either, although he can be as stern and exasperated as anyone at his members childish antics.</p><p> </p><p>But lately, he’s been more worried than usual.</p><p> </p><p>Their anniversary is hitting in the middle of their comeback, and that’s when he realizes that shit, it’s been a long year. A long, exciting, but tiring year. When was the last time they had a break that didn’t involve a camera and carefully scripted interactions? When was the last time they were allowed to just be a group of friends, hanging out at their own leisurely pace?</p><p> </p><p>There’s been moments, of course, but they’re just that – moments of respite, moments of peace until they’re back at it again.</p><p> </p><p>He loves the job, just like anyone else, but it’s undeniable that it’s getting <em>tiring. </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>And ‘Wonderland’ doesn’t really provide them with much space to breathe.</p><p> </p><p>He knows the members are exhausted – he’s not exactly unfazed either, and he doesn’t dare taking a step back to evaluate his own state in honest fear of what he’ll find.</p><p> </p><p>They’re all struggling both individually, and as a group. It’s unavoidable, really, the way the past couple of weeks have progressed-</p><p> </p><p>It’s been tense since Mingi was put out of commission, and even worse after Jongho injured his foot – they make do, but it’s getting a bit too much with a quarter of the group already missing from their formation, already suffering through their most intense comeback yet.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong doesn’t want to be a pessimist, but with the strain the remaining members are under, he’s almost waiting for another calamity.</p><p> </p><p>It’s an uneasy feeling; a part of him wants to cancel the comeback, say that enough is enough, they’ve released the album and had a few stages, they’ve given the fans what they can. The rest is not worth their mental and physical wellbeing.</p><p> </p><p>But at the same time, this is it – this album is the culmination of everything they’ve done since debut, everything they’ve worked so hard for. The climax of an amazing year. The final lap. It’s tough, but none of them wants this to go to waste just because things get hard.</p><p> </p><p>When the going gets tough, the tough gets going – Hongjoong is more than happy to live by that for himself, but he isn’t sure if he can hold the others to the same standards. It isn’t fair to force that philosophy unto them when none of them are really sure what it entails.</p><p> </p><p>In short, he’s conflicted.</p><p> </p><p>In a way, it’s fortunate that the decision is not his to make. It’s up to the management, the business part of the company. Hongjoong is a leader of the group, but not the boss, and so he can make suggestions and demands all he likes, but at the end of the day, he doesn’t have much input. KQ is pretty lenient with them – he knows that much. Compared to other groups under more cynical companies, they have it good.</p><p> </p><p>But business is business, and Hongjoong knows it’s easy to get detached from the state of the artists when the executives are holed up in their offices on the other side of town.</p><p> </p><p>“Where’s San-ah?” One of the stylists calls out, moving from Yeosang’s neatly fluffed hair to look for their final member.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong snaps around so quickly he nearly gets a make-up brush to the eye.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s sleeping,” he says quickly, trying his best to keep a respectful tone. “He’s not feeling well.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, he needs to wake up to get his hair done now,” the stylist says, not entirely unkindly – just dutifully.</p><p> </p><p>Still, Hongjoong doesn’t like it.</p><p> </p><p>“Can we skip it this time, please?” he puts on his best smile. “He’s just going to mess it up after like, seven seconds anyway. He really needs his rest, but for him – I mean, had it been anyone else, but no amount of hairspray can hold San’s hair when he gets going, yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s not really my decision…” the stylist glances over at the coordinator at the other side of the room cautiously.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong sighs.</p><p> </p><p>“Artfully messy,” he pleads. “This one time. Please.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hongjoong-ah – “</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Please</em>.” He looks up at the woman doing his make-up as if she has any more power over the situation than he does. She just looks back at him with a sad expression.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe she has kids.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll ask, but…” the stylist doesn’t look convinced. “I don’t… He’s going to have to do something.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then do him last,” Hongjoong insists. “Please. I just need him to get as much rest as he can.”</p><p> </p><p>“He is last, Hongjoong-ah,” one of their managers butt in from a chair at the side. “Everyone else are already in process or done. Let the ladies do their job. San will be fine.”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s not fine,” Hongjoong grits out even as the stylist forcibly turns his head to the side to get access to his jaw.</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” the manager sighs. “Not fine, maybe, but... He’ll manage. San’s tough. It’s great that you’re trying to look out for them, but we’ve got to move on with the program, alright?”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine.” Hongjoong doesn’t pout, he really doesn’t, but it’s difficult not to when his own worries of inadequacy is shot back into his face like that. He knows he doesn’t make all the calls, and he’s glad for that, but…</p><p> </p><p>In times like this, he just can’t help but think about the gap between them. His group, and the staff. They’re all doing their job, fulfilling a role, but he doesn’t think the management always gets what it feels like to be an idol. How draining it can be.</p><p> </p><p>He isn’t pleased when he sees San being led to a chair only a few minutes later, looking sleepy and shaky and not at all as vibrant as he usually is. The stylist must notice too, because she pats his shoulder gently and gives him a brief neck massage before pinning his hair back to do the make-up.</p><p> </p><p>It’s a brief display of humanity, and Hongjoong clings to it when he’s instructed to close his eyes for the finish touches.</p><p> </p><p>The rest of the preparations are routine, and while Hongjoong keeps an eye out for San and Jongho, once they start moving around, nothing particularly worrying happens, so he has to force down the lump in his throat and focus. It’s time for the rehearsal recording without audience, and even if there aren’t any fans around right now, they still have to put on a good show.</p><p> </p><p>They all file out towards the stage, greeting staff members and bowing to seniors, and then it’s their turn. Mic checks are okay, they’re given the go signal, and then they’re on stage.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong will never get used to performing with six-and-a-half members, and he hopes he never has to.</p><p> </p><p>Their dancers do a magnificent job, and Hongjoong respects and admires and appreciates them so much – but they’re not his team. His family.</p><p> </p><p>But he grits his teeth together and thinks, when all life has to offer is lemons –</p><p> </p><p>Once they’re on stage, they slide into positions comfortably; it’s tiring, but it’s familiar, and it’s the best part of their job, most of the time. It passes by in a blur, most of the time, the rush of adrenaline and intensity of the dance pushing an internal fast forward button.</p><p> </p><p>Wonderland is a heavy, quick song, with lots of strong and exhaustive movements. It’s one of the toughest performances they have done to date, and while it’s fun, it’s also draining.</p><p> </p><p>This time, Hongjoong tries to force himself to slow down.</p><p> </p><p>He tries to keep his eyes on Jongho, making sure he’s seated, and San, checking for signs of weakness. The rest of them, he trusts. Normally, he would trust Jongho and San as well, but right now, he’s not so sure.</p><p> </p><p>Jongho does well – his voice is a blessing in Hongjoong’s ear, and he’s satisfied with the small glimpses he catches whenever the choreography rotates.</p><p> </p><p>San, on the other hand –</p><p> </p><p>He’s managing. His movements are a bit heavier than usual, not quite as refined and controlled, but the usual vigor is still there, and he’s not holding back at all.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong is more than a little bit impressed, and maybe scared. San’s endurance is inhumane.</p><p> </p><p>Hopefully, he’ll have a long, restful night once they get back to the dorms. Hongjoong isn’t condoning any game nights tonight.</p><p> </p><p>They make it through the song and stumble down the stairs from the stairs, huffing and puffing and sweating, but patting each other’s backs on a performance well done, as always. Yunho is giving Jongho an involuntary piggyback, with Seonghwa trailing behind them like an anxious aunt.</p><p> </p><p>San stumbles a little at the bottom of the stairs, but Wooyoung is there to catch him immediately.</p><p> </p><p>“Easy,” he murmurs in San’s ear, and San smiles sweetly at him.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry,” he apologizes faintly. “Just a bit unsteady.”</p><p> </p><p>“Uh-huh.” Wooyoung doesn’t sound convinced, and keeps San’s arm across his shoulder even as he stands back up. Yeosang hovers on San’s side somewhat awkwardly, ready to catch him should he falter again.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong purses his lips.</p><p> </p><p>“You alright, San?” He asks, although he already know the lie he’s going to be served.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s fine,” San breathes, straightening and dragging Wooyoung with him a few steps past Hongjoong to prove his point. “I’m okay.”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s damn well not,” Yeosang mutters to Hongjoong as they follow the rest to give up their mics to the staff before heading towards the dressing room. Last break.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s just one more performance,” Hongjoong sighs back, wincing when Yeosang turns to look at him.</p><p> </p><p>Yeosang’s incredulity is palpable.</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” Hongjoong says, looking ahead instead as Wooyoung complains about San’s mic wires going all over the place. “We’re just going to have to endure it.”</p><p> </p><p>He hands over his mic and refuses to look at Yeosang’s intense stare. Yeosang has those eyes, those intense, talkative eyes that somehow always seem eager to judge him.</p><p> </p><p>But to his surprise, Yeosang doesn’t keep quiet as they walk away.</p><p> </p><p>“I know there isn’t much you can do, but…” Hongjoong feels a pat on his shoulder. “Just… Can you make sure he’s not getting scolded, at least? If his performance isn’t great, next time…”</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong swallows and smiles.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s something I can do, yeah,” he agrees. Their management isn’t overly strict with them like that – the pros of coming from a smaller label – and they are thankfully understanding towards the harsh requirements of the industry. They’ll probably be satisfied that San was on stage at all.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong wishes he could be satisfied with that as well, but he isn’t.</p><p> </p><p>He would be satisfied if San was at home, resting.</p><p> </p><p>Jongho too.</p><p> </p><p>All of them, really – but they have to keep up. The line between pushing limits and going too far… It’s so difficult to see, and Hongjoong hates it. They can always push limits – but throwing themselves off bridges is not a good idea, ever.</p><p> </p><p>He shivers thinking about Mingi.</p><p> </p><p>Mingi is doing alright. He is, all things considered – it could have gotten so much worse. He’s doing okay.  He’s healing.</p><p> </p><p>But Hongjoong hates that he has to take a break to achieve something that should be so, so fundamental. He hates that there is no room for break in their schedule already.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe next year. Rookie year is an important year to establish a foothold in the industry, but next year, they might get some respite.</p><p> </p><p>He dares to hope.</p><p> </p><p>When they all step into the dressing room, Hongjoong calls out his instructions and warnings as usual, on reflex – hydrate, have some snacks if they can, don’t go too far. But other than that, they’re all quiet. Their energy reserves are depleting, and everyone takes the opportunity for a small nap where appropriate. No jokes, games, no videos or discussions or anything else.</p><p> </p><p>It’s a sign that it’s late.</p><p> </p><p>Yeosang manages to coax some water into San, Hongjoong notices, but it’s not nearly enough. Of course it’s not. Yunho has joined Yeosang and San the couch, and he’s giving San a small peptalk before they’re all sliding down to nap on top of each other.</p><p> </p><p>He finds Jongho chugging a bottle of water and something bitter, a tea of some sort, and gives his ankle a one-over. It’s not aggravated or hurt in any way, Jongho reassures him, and Hongjoong has to believe him.</p><p> </p><p>“I know not to push it, hyung,” Jongho sighs in exasperation. “I’ve got some sense of self-preservation, you know.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not taking that for granted,” Hongjoong retorts, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Besides, it’s busy. You might not do anything to your foot, but someone else might, accidentally.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s fine,” Jongho says stubbornly. “I promise. I’m not doing anything strenuous.”</p><p> </p><p>“If you insist.”</p><p> </p><p>“I am insisting, but thanks for caring.”</p><p> </p><p>“Brat,” Hongjoong smirks and ruffles Jongho’s hair playfully, earning a smack to the arm and a whine about getting it restyled as he walks away.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong’s mind isn’t entirely eased, but he just has to roll with the punches at this point.</p><p> </p><p>Over at the couch, Wooyoung has joined the sleepy cuddlepile that is Yeosang, San and Yunho. Hongjoong suspects they may be candidates for make-up and hair retouch, given how close they’re huddling. San looks a bit flushed, cheeks red through the make-up and still sweaty, but so are the rest of them, so Hongjoong forces himself to shrug it off.</p><p> </p><p>On the other side of the room, where he’s readjusting his tie in the mirror, Seonghwa turns and meets his eyes. There’s a silent question being asked to him, but Hongjoong can’t quite decipher it.</p><p> </p><p>It doesn’t take long before they’re rushed to get their retouches and preparations for the recording, and that passes in a blur. One of the stylists barely brush over Hongjoong’s hair with a comb before sending him back out, and only Yeosang is held back for a little while longer as the rest of them start mulling away to the stage. Yeosang pouts and complains, and Wooyoung throws back that it’s the price of being a visual.</p><p> </p><p>Normal banter.</p><p> </p><p>Time moves quickly.</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly they’re on stage again.</p><p> </p><p>One last performance, Hongjoong tells himself.</p><p> </p><p>One last performance, and then they can take stock. Damage control. Plan tomorrow.</p><p> </p><p>All of that.</p><p> </p><p>And for a while, it works – they give it their all, they fight, they do their best to put on as good a performance as the previous two recordings.</p><p> </p><p>It works, for a while – and then Hongjoong gets the ghost of a heart attack.</p><p> </p><p>It happens a little bit too quickly for Hongjoong to really grasp what’s going on – time moves so fast when they’re on stage, especially now that they’re all so tired, it’s so easy to slip into autopilot just to get through the last hurdle of the day. Each second flying by so easily that they rely more on instinct and practiced routine than coherent thought at this point. If they stop to think, they will be too slow.</p><p> </p><p>Which is why Hongjoong doesn’t really manage to do anything besides keep going when he sees San climb on top of their dancers, and then just slowly sink down towards the ground instead of getting back up –</p><p> </p><p><em>No, </em>he manages to think, heart beating incessantly in panic, <em>not you too.</em></p><p> </p><p>But San keeps singing, catches himself, and straightens immediately afterwards. The last thing Hongjoong sees before he has to turn around again is San preparing to fall back towards their dancers, and he prays he will get up again afterwards.</p><p> </p><p>Prays their fans will just brush it off as San’s dancing eccentricities. Maybe they will think it’s just another way for him to live in the music.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong knows better – he’s too familiar with San’s movements at this point to see it for anything besides the momentary blackout it was.</p><p> </p><p>But he can’t do anything about it besides grit his teeth and pray they make it through the last half of the song okay. A brief thought of, maybe he should do something, but he doesn’t know what, he can’t do anything in the middle of a performance. He will have to trust San to make it through.</p><p> </p><p>If anyone can, it’s San.</p><p> </p><p>And as if frantic to prove him right – determined to prove himself after a momentary falter, San goes through the rest of the dance with the same raw intensity Hongjoong would expect from a cornered animal.</p><p> </p><p>He will never understand San, how San works, how he’s able to do the things he does –</p><p> </p><p>And maybe that’s for the best, because Hongjoong doesn’t understand how someone can go from nearly fainting to bouncing around with the amount of energy San always seems to drag out for the end of their performances.</p><p> </p><p>It’s almost surreal how, despite stumbling around backstage, despite nearly collapsing onstage, San is still twisting and turning and stamping like nothing’s wrong. Something is wrong, and Hongjoong can tell, but it’s in the lack fluidity, not in lack of energy.</p><p> </p><p>Desperation.</p><p> </p><p>That’s what it is.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong forces a smirk on his face for the end pose of the choreography, when really, all he wants to do is cry.</p><p> </p><p>When finally, finally the lights dim and they’re allowed to leave the stage, Hongjoong breaks his stance and looks around the team. Mostly, they relax and start moving towards the back stairs, moving out of the way for the next group –</p><p> </p><p>All, save for San.</p><p> </p><p>He stands stiffly where the dance left him, pose still held despite his panting, eyes unwaveringly held somewhere to the floor.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong frowns.</p><p> </p><p>“Sannie,” he whispers, hurrying over quickly. “San, we need to go – “</p><p> </p><p>The second he touches San’s shoulder, he crumbles like a bag of rice.</p><p> </p><p>“San!” Hongjoong exclaims uselessly, bending to catch him. He manages to get a hold of San’s waist, and although they both end up stumbling, it’s just enough to keep him from falling. Luckily, San isn’t particularly heavy, otherwise Hongjoong’s reflexes wouldn’t have been enough to keep them up.</p><p> </p><p>Well – keep Hongjoong up, anyway. San moves blearily at Hongjoong’s touch, but he doesn’t straighten himself or move to keep his balance.</p><p> </p><p>“Shit, San…” Hongjoong mutters, throwing one of San’s arms around his own shoulder to keep them stable as he adjusts his grip around San’s waist with the other arm. “You with me? San?”</p><p> </p><p>The only response he gets is a heavy, shaky exhale, and Hongjoong resists the urge to curse.</p><p> </p><p>This isn’t good.</p><p> </p><p>They need to get off the stage.</p><p> </p><p>San needs help.</p><p> </p><p>As he starts moving towards the back stairs, where the other members have already left, Hongjoong sees Seonghwa making his way over hurriedly. Even through the darkness of the stage and his dramatic eye makeup, Hongjoong sees Seonghwa’s concern stark as day.</p><p> </p><p>“Help me,” Hongjoong grits out, and that’s all Seonghwa needs.</p><p> </p><p>He swoops down to take one of San’s arms and hefts it over his shoulders, easing enough of the weight to allow Hongjoong a better grip. He mirrors Seonghwa’s hold and gets San’s other arm across his shoulder. Seonghwa is much taller than Hongjoong, but San is somewhere in the middle, so it works out okay even if it’s slightly awkward.</p><p> </p><p>It’s more than good enough right now.</p><p> </p><p>With Seonghwa’s help, Hongjoong manages to maneuver San down the stairs relatively quickly. It’s less walking and more dragging San along with them, his feet tumbling clumsily down each step, but Hongjoong isn’t sure how conscious San really is to register what’s going on. He makes some small, strangled whimpers, his breath picking up pace next to Hongjoong’s ear, and he knows that whatever’s going on isn’t good. San’s skin feels warm and sweaty, but he’s pale, shivering, and Hongjoong knows this is more than just the usual breathlessness they all experience after a tough performance.</p><p> </p><p>How could it not be?</p><p> </p><p>San had been clinging to awareness all day – up until they walked on stage, Hongjoong honestly couldn’t have imagined how he’d go on stage and perform.</p><p> </p><p>But it’s San.</p><p> </p><p>San doesn’t have any limits, not like the rest of them –</p><p> </p><p>Or at least, that’s what they thought. That’s what they’ve all comforted themselves with all day.</p><p> </p><p>They should have known better.</p><p> </p><p>The members are waiting at the bottom of the stairs, hissing questions and hesitantly reaching out to offer their assistance in any way, but Hongjoong just shoos them ahead. He almost has to kick Wooyoung just to get him moving instead of cramping the small space.</p><p> </p><p>“What happened?” Wooyoung hisses, brushing a hand over San’s face, but Hongjoong nudges him away.</p><p> </p><p>“It was too much, just move,” he says gruffly. “We need to get him away from here.”</p><p> </p><p>“But he – “</p><p> </p><p>“Move, Wooyoung!”</p><p> </p><p>Reluctantly, Wooyoung steps aside to let Hongjoong and Seonghwa walk past.</p><p> </p><p>San doesn’t acknowledge them at all.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong doesn’t know if it’s because he doesn’t have the energy, or if he isn’t coherent enough. The labored breaths in his ear are certainly not calming.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait,” he mumbles once they reach the hallway leading to the dressing rooms. San feels completely limp in their hold, breath still heaving, and it worries Hongjoong. “I need to…”</p><p> </p><p>He trails off, not sure what he can actually do – his stomach curls uncomfortably, and he tries not to think of the worst case scenarios.</p><p> </p><p>Seonghwa halts obediently, looking on with concern as Hongjoong lowers San to the floor and props him up against the wall. It’s in the middle of the hallway, with technical assistants and managers and idols buzzing about, but Hongjoong blocks them out. He can only focus on San’s face, San’s closed eyes and trembling grimace.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong curses quietly.</p><p> </p><p>“San,” he tries, tapping San’s cheek gently. “San, can you hear me? Are you with me?”</p><p> </p><p>San doesn’t acknowledge him – doesn’t open his eyes properly, doesn’t speak, doesn’t even try to. His head shifts with Hongjoong’s touch, the only sign that he’s even alive the slight frown, and the wheezing breaths, small but heavy –</p><p> </p><p>Like he’s not getting enough air.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong bites his lip and starts undoing the tie hastily. It might not be much, but maybe it helps. Just a little bit.</p><p> </p><p>His fingers tremble and he feels himself panicking more and more by the second, because San still isn’t breathing right, but he knows he has to stay calm. San needs him –</p><p> </p><p>The tie comes loose, and Hongjoong doesn’t waste any time opening the top buttons as well. Compared to the tight knot, they pop open easily, exposing bits of San’s heaving chest.</p><p> </p><p>He’s still struggling – he’s not reacting.</p><p> </p><p>Then San lets out a small whimper, almost like a sob, and it’s such a pitiful, vulnerable sound that Hongjoong’s heart breaks.</p><p> </p><p>How did it come to this?</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay Sannie, you’re okay,” he says uselessly, cupping San’s cheek to force him to look at him – force him to face him, at least, and slowly, San’s eyes peel open just a sliver. Hongjoong wishes he could control San’s breathing as easily. “Come on, breathe with me. Just slow breaths, that’s all you need.”</p><p> </p><p>He’s not sure if San hears him, or if he’s too lost in whatever feverish struggle he’s experiencing to really process the instructions. His head lolls limply in Hongjoong’s grip and his eyes are unfocused, fluttering erratically with each labored breath.</p><p> </p><p>“San-ah, come on – “ Wooyoung nearly shouts in his ear as he falls to his knees next to Hongjoong, but he’s panicking, and Hongjoong can’t deal with that right now. It’s not what San needs.</p><p> </p><p>“Stay back, Wooyoung” Hongjoong hisses as he blindly reaches out to shove Wooyoung away. San wheezes, and Hongjoong grips his hand tighter. “He needs space.”</p><p> </p><p>“But I just – “</p><p> </p><p>“Wooyoung, come here.”</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong thinks Yeosang is the one to drag Wooyoung away, and he would normally feel bad for being so aggressive with his team, but he can only focus on San now. His own heart races, and with each passing second of San not adjusting his breaths, his worry melds into fear, because this isn’t right.</p><p> </p><p>Vaguely, he hears someone call for help in the background – maybe Jongho, or Yunho, he’s not sure – but Hongjoong can’t afford to wait.</p><p> </p><p>His attention is solely focused on San’s pinched, pale expression, the complete lack of coherency… Hongjoong doesn’t know exactly what to do, but he needs to do something, he needs to fix it, needs to get San breathing –</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry, but you need to go to your dressing rooms,” someone says behind them. It’s one of the attendants, and assistant manager of something something, probably, and he’s gesturing at the traffic of people moving back and forth around the hallway.</p><p> </p><p>“We can’t!” Jongho exclaims. “Are you blind? San-hyung’s – “</p><p> </p><p>“Jongho, please,” Seonghwa cuts him off. “I’m sorry, our friend is not okay – is there a standby medic here or something?”</p><p> </p><p>“We’ll send one to your dressing room, but if you can, it would be much appreciated if you could move there as quickly as possible. This isn’t a suitable place, and there are others who need to pass by, so it would be in everyone’s best interest if you could move along.”</p><p> </p><p>“We understand, but he’s not well enough to stand upright, let alone walk – “</p><p> </p><p>San gasps under Hongjoong’s touch and something blackens in Hongjoong’s head.</p><p> </p><p>“Please, you need to move on – “</p><p> </p><p>“Give us one fucking second, okay?! My teammate isn’t breathing!” Hongjoong growls, turning to glare at whoever tries to move his panicking group along because they’re a damn inconvenience. It’s not like he wants to have San crumpled on the floor any longer than he has to, either –</p><p> </p><p>He just needs to make sure he’s okay.</p><p> </p><p>Vaguely, he hears Seonghwa apologize on his behalf and murmur assurances that they’ll be moving along soon enough, and Hongjoong can’t help but be pissed that they are the ones who have to apologize in this situation.</p><p> </p><p>Can’t they see what’s happening?</p><p> </p><p>Have they never seen an idol collapse before?</p><p> </p><p>Why isn’t anyone helping?</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong wants to cry, but it’s not his place, and it’s not his prerogative to cry.</p><p> </p><p>Instead, he focuses on San again.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on, Sannie,” he murmurs as his thumb strokes San’s cheek gently. “I just need you to breathe properly, that’s all I’m asking of you, okay? Focus on that. Just breathe. Breathe.”</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t know if San’s listening, if he can hear him, if he’s conscious or half-conscious or any state in-between.</p><p> </p><p>Still, he tries. If San can focus on one word, one syllable – Hongjoong needs to try.</p><p> </p><p>“Breathe. Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s awfully hard to keep his voice leveled, to give the instructions slowly and carefully rather than urgently. His instincts are screaming at him to yell out the words as loudly and rapidly as he can, but he knows that isn’t right – he <em>knows</em>, but it’s so difficult.</p><p> </p><p>San wheezes a little under his touch, and Hongjoong hopes it means he’s trying to follow his voice. San’s expression is still pinched, lips moving slightly, and Hongjoong still doesn’t know what that means, so he keeps trying.</p><p> </p><p>“Breathe in. Breathe out. Come on, San…”</p><p> </p><p>His thumb moves in time with the words, stroking ever so gently, hoping to ground him. Hongjoong is neither a medical professional nor psychologist, so he doesn’t really know if what he’s doing is worth shit, and he hates it, but he has to try.</p><p> </p><p>“Breathe in, Sannie. Breathe out. You’re okay.”</p><p> </p><p>And San breathes. It’s uneven, shallow, and a little bit desperate, but he breathes.</p><p> </p><p>Slowly, but surely, the heaving turns into proper breaths, and Hongjoong feels a rush of relief at the unsteady, but firm rise and fall in San’s chest.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re doing good, Sannie,” he murmurs gently, his thumb continuing to rub rhythmically across San’s cheek. “Breathe in. Breathe out.”</p><p> </p><p>The seconds pass by so agonizingly slowly, but if it helps San breathe properly again, Hongjoong doesn’t care. He tries to keep his own breathing steady and calm, but he knows his heartbeat is racing a hundred miles per hour from the adrenaline, and the fear –</p><p> </p><p>San doesn’t open his eyes, and Hongjoong doesn’t have the mind to unpack what that means. Maybe he’s fainted. Maybe he’s just exhausted.</p><p> </p><p>But he breathes.</p><p> </p><p>That’s all he needs right now.</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck me,” Hongjoong mutters with a heavy sigh, turns around to his team. They’re all standing there, patiently and faithfully. Waiting for his instructions. “Yunho, come here – can you lift him?”</p><p> </p><p>“Is he okay to be lifted?” Yunho asks hesitantly, but he bends down next to Hongjoong nonetheless.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s breathing,” Hongjoong answers vaguely, because that’s really the only guarantee they have at this point. “Let’s see if it helps taking him to the dressing room. Maybe it’s a bit quieter there.”</p><p> </p><p>“Shouldn’t we call an ambulance?” Wooyoung asks, pale as a sheet. “Why hasn’t anyone called an ambulance yet?”</p><p> </p><p>“We’ll take him to the hospital if he doesn’t regain his senses soon,” Hongjoong promises, not really sure if he thinks that will be enough. “He’s tired, not dying.”</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t mean to trivialize it, he really doesn’t, mostly because it isn’t true, San is really struggling – but at the same time, he doesn’t want the group to worry more than they have to. To blow things out of proportion. That’s just going to cause even more trouble.</p><p> </p><p>And right now, Hongjoong has more than enough to just keep them from falling apart.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t really move when Yunho reaches out to hook one arm underneath San’s knees, the other around his shoulders. He can’t.</p><p> </p><p>“Lift with your knees,” he mumbles instinctively as Yunho works on getting a grip around his teammate.</p><p> </p><p>Yunho pauses and looks at him. Almost in surprise, maybe incredulity. But he doesn’t pause long before smiling, nodding once at Hongjoong.</p><p> </p><p>With Hongjoong’s hand still cradling San’s, Yunho stands up tall with relative ease despite the precious cargo in his arms. As Yunho readjusts his grip, Hongjoong reaches out to steady San’s limp head against his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>San looks terribly, terribly small curled up in Yunho’s arms. Almost broken, like a doll, and Hongjoong knows this is going to be a terrible blow to San’s pride.</p><p> </p><p>It reminds Hongjoong of how young San had been only a year ago – how innocent and eager to please he had been back then.</p><p> </p><p>Shit – he still is.</p><p> </p><p>That’s why they’re here now. San has matured a lot physically, and maybe that has helped them forget how earnest he is. How easily he disregards his own well-being for the sake of the group.</p><p> </p><p>He briefly wonders if it’s a coming of age thing. Maybe San would acknowledge his limits if he’d been older, more experienced; maybe he would have seen it coming. Maybe he would have known that willpower alone cannot sustain the body forever.</p><p> </p><p>But then again, he thinks, this has probably less to do with San’s ignorance of his own state of being, and more with his loyalty to the group – to the fans.</p><p> </p><p>San is selfless like that.</p><p> </p><p>He just wants to please everyone.</p><p> </p><p>One day, Hongjoong will convince him that his good health is worth so much more than a music show. One day, he will sit them all down and make sure they know the difference between pushing boundaries and throwing themselves off a cliff.</p><p> </p><p>One day – but maybe he needs to learn the difference himself, first.</p><p> </p><p>The thought burns his eyes, and he has to bite his lip as he starts leading his group away, Yunho and with San in his arms staying somewhere in the middle.</p><p> </p><p>The trek back to their dressing room feels infinitely long – with Jongho’s ankle still not doing him any favours and the tight, crowded space slowing them down, it’s just a few minutes too long until they finally see the familiar door to the space they have been given for the evening.</p><p> </p><p>It’s fascinating to Hongjoong how people just <em>look</em> – so many other idols, workers, management staff – they all seem to just stare, barely moving out of the way.</p><p> </p><p>Is it really this common?</p><p> </p><p>Have they really become so numb?</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong has a thing or two to say about that – some angry words about dehumanization, objectification and lack of empathy – but that will have to wait. At the moment, he will just have to store his morbid fascination somewhere in the back of his mind, forget about it until they are all out and calm and healthy.</p><p> </p><p>Then he can get frustrated again. Write a piece about it. Send a little bit of a fuck you to the industry and all its keepers. Word it as an analogy careful enough to get through the censorship.</p><p> </p><p>Sure. That’s a constructive way of working through his anger and despair.</p><p> </p><p>But not today.</p><p> </p><p>Today – today, they just have to make it through.</p><p> </p><p>The move from the dressing rooms to the stage didn’t seem so long when they left to perform, but now the trek is so long, and so dreadful, that Hongjoong wants to cry in relief when they finally stumble through the doors to see their managers, bags, discarded jackets and snacks littered all over the room.</p><p> </p><p>He quickly shuffles over to the couch and shoves everything down to the floor indiscriminately.</p><p> </p><p>“Put him here,” he instructs Yunho gently as Yeosang and Seonghwa fill the managers in on what’s happened. Hongjoong doesn’t know what they’re saying, if they already knew, if they’ve prepared anything.</p><p> </p><p>He can’t find it in him to care.</p><p> </p><p>Yunho navigates the messy room with ease, rounding the couch and carefully depositing San on the couch with a grunt.</p><p> </p><p>Yunho may be strong, but carrying a groupmate for so long after a tiring performance – Hongjoong takes a mental note to give his gratitude to Yunho once they’re all done. San may be light, but his recent bulk makes him a decent weight for Yunho to lift after all.</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks, go have a break,” Hongjoong says, patting Yunho’s elbow with a smile.</p><p> </p><p>Yunho stares at him.</p><p> </p><p>“A break?” He laughs humourlessly. “I think we all need one of those now, but sitting in a chair for five minutes doesn’t really count as a break at this point.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” Hongjoong winces. “I know. I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>Yunho shakes his head with a sigh. “No, I’m sorry. It’s not your fault, I just – “</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” Hongjoong repeats. “I know what you mean. I’m still sorry, but… For now, just go hydrate. Get changed, all of that. We’ll be here for a while, I think.”</p><p> </p><p>Yunho nods slowly, but doesn’t move.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong raises an eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay?” He clicks his tongue. “Go, Yunho. I won’t ask you twice.”</p><p> </p><p>Seemingly against his best judgement, Yunho smiles briefly and does what he’s told.</p><p> </p><p>There’s a slump to his shoulders as he walks off that Hongjoong doesn’t like, but he doesn’t have the luxury of fixing all their problems at the moment.</p><p> </p><p>Instead, he glances down at San, still limp, unresponsive.</p><p> </p><p>“What am I going to do with you,” he sighs quietly.</p><p> </p><p>San, expectedly, doesn’t answer.</p><p> </p><p>Exhausted, and unable to do anything else, Hongjoong dumps down on the couch’s armrest and lets his head fall into his hands.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t know what to do.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t know what he could have done.</p><p> </p><p>Should he have done anything differently?</p><p> </p><p>When?</p><p> </p><p>In the hallway? Before they went on stage? When San refused to go back and rest at the dorms? Maybe this morning, when he saw that San was sick and still let him join their daily schedule?</p><p> </p><p>Maybe he should have checked them all yesterday, like a periodical spotcheck to make sure they were all doing okay.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe he should have said something earlier that week, when they were handed their schedule for the next few days.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe he should have called off the comeback, when Mingi and Jongho got injured so soon after the release.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe he should have realized how tired they all were when they started preparing for the comeback, immediately on the back of another heavy comeback, and another before that –</p><p> </p><p>“Hongjoong.”</p><p> </p><p>There are fingers in his hair, gently raking through the hairspray and sweat to massage his scalp. Hongjoong lets out a shuddering breath he didn’t know he was holding.</p><p> </p><p>When he finds it in him to look up, it’s Seonghwa.</p><p> </p><p>Of course it’s Seonghwa.</p><p> </p><p>He smiles down at Hongjoong with such a sad, sympathetic look that Hongjoong wants to burst into tears immediately.</p><p> </p><p>“What the fuck, Seonghwa,” he whispers brokenly. “What the fuck are we doing?”</p><p> </p><p>It’s not a question Seonghwa can answer, any more than Hongjoong can, but it feels important to say it out loud. To state it for the record.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on,” Seonghwa says instead, gently reaching out to take Hongjoong’s hand. “Join me for a little walk.”</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong blinks.</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t, San – “</p><p> </p><p>“He’s resting now, the others will look after him,” Seonghwa says, admittedly a bit wistfully as he glances down at San. “I just – I think you need some air.”</p><p> </p><p>“Air?” Hongjoong scoffs. “If you think I’m going outside when we’ve only just – “</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe not outside,” Seonghwa quickly amends. “Please, Hongjoong – just a little stroll. Ten minutes, at most. I promise.”</p><p> </p><p>And just like that, Hongjoong gives in.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t have the energy to fight Seonghwa, doesn’t have the will to protest anymore.</p><p> </p><p>What difference does it make if he’s by San’s side? What good is he doing if he’s just sitting there?</p><p> </p><p>If Seonghwa insists – fine. Hongjoong doesn’t see the point in fighting him. Doesn’t see a point in anything he can do right now.</p><p> </p><p>Nothing he has done seems to matter anyway.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” he agrees quietly.</p><p> </p><p>Seonghwa seems to consider this a victory – somehow, for some reason. Hongjoong doesn’t understand, but the way Seonghwa smiles at him, almost relieved, must mean something.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe Hongjoong could understand if he tried, but he’s too tired.</p><p> </p><p>Instead, he lets Seonghwa drag him upright and out of the dressing room, with only one final look behind him to see that Wooyoung and Jongho are coming up to the couch to keep San company, so to speak.</p><p> </p><p>It will have to do, Hongjoong concedes to himself.</p><p> </p><p>Seonghwa doesn’t let go of his hand as they walk, through the crowds any busy hallways – seemingly without purpose, without destination. Just for the sake of walking.</p><p> </p><p>It’s oddly comforting, in a strange way. Hongjoong is doing something, and it’s not something that will help their situation at all, but at least he’s not staring into the air. Maybe that makes all the difference.</p><p> </p><p>Along the way, they meet a couple of concerned idols and staff members who had witnessed the commotion from the hallway. They ask if there’s anything they can do, if everything’s alright, who it was that collapsed – Seonghwa just brushes them off with polite, grateful words, while Hongjoong tries to decipher if there is any kind of genuity to the questions or if it’s just empty words.</p><p> </p><p>He wishes he were less cynical.</p><p> </p><p>He wishes he didn’t have to be.</p><p> </p><p>Seonghwa, thankfully, doesn’t badger Hongjoong with questions or false reassurances or even accusations. He just walks, squeezing Hongjoong’s hand at regular intervals, steering him gently around the corners and through busy rooms.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong’s heartrate is finally going down.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t know why, or what Seonghwa’s doing that’s so comforting, but he’ll gladly accept it.</p><p> </p><p>“Walking is nice,” Seonghwa mumbles so quietly that Hongjoong barely hears him over the business of the corridors. “It’s like meditation.”</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong can’t help but snort.</p><p> </p><p>“Is that so?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Seonghwa smiles down at him. “It’s like… A reset. A continuous change of scenery. That’s nice, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“I guess,” Hongjoong agrees with a hum.</p><p> </p><p>Seonghwa doesn’t say anything else until they find themselves by their dressing room again, well after ten minutes of strolling, and the sight of the doorway is enough to create a little ball of dread in Hongjoong’s stomach. He doesn’t know why.</p><p> </p><p>But Seonghwa notices his hesitation, and squeezes his hand again.</p><p> </p><p>“Hongjoong-ah,” he says quietly, pulling them to a halt outside. “You know… You can’t control everything, right?”</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong frowns. “What?”</p><p> </p><p>“This all…” Seonghwa wrinkles his nose and gestures vaguely with his free hand. “It’s not all up to you. We have managers that are supposed to look after us, and the staff is supposed to pick up on stuff not being okay, and we all check up on each other, and…”</p><p> </p><p>He makes a weird coughing sound in the back of his throat that Hongjoong isn’t entirely able to decipher.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re all adults,” Seonghwa finally says. “We need to look out for ourselves. All of us need to… All of us need to be able to take care of ourselves as well.”</p><p> </p><p>He looks meaningfully at Hongjoong when he says this, and Hongjoong thinks he’s supposed to understand some hidden meaning to the words.</p><p> </p><p>He swallows thickly.</p><p> </p><p>“San didn’t have much of a choice,” he says hollowly.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe not,” Seonghwa agrees. “But that wasn’t your fault. You tried. Okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Hongjoong agrees, but he isn’t sure if he really agrees. He hasn’t even wrapped his head around the question.</p><p> </p><p>But Seonghwa must accept his answer, because he gives him a small smile and releases his hand, letting Hongjoong go back into the room and his heart breaking.</p><p> </p><p>On the couch, Wooyoung sits with San, pillowing his head on his lap as he threads his fingers gently through San’s long, sweaty hair. Wooyoung’s own hair is mussed, hairspray tossing it in all directions, and for once, Wooyoung doesn’t care enough to do anything to fix it. His makeup is smudging too, and his clothes rumpled – he’d taken off his jacket and thrown it over the back of the couch, but does nothing to fix the uneven folds of his sleeves, the crumpled knot of his tie.</p><p> </p><p>He gives Hongjoong a weak smile as he moves to sit in a chair across from them.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong gives him something like the ghost of a smile back.</p><p> </p><p>The first aid officer comes around, eventually, but not nearly as quickly as Hongjoong would have hoped or expected.</p><p> </p><p>He supposes it’s better than not at all.</p><p> </p><p>The officer asks them a few questions, monotonous and obviously memorized from a standard form – has he shown any signs of illness, how does he sleep, eat, did he have his shots, and so on – before crouching down before the couch to perform some kind of brief examination Hongjoong at least hopes is sufficient.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t pay much attention, but he sees that the officer measures San’s temperature, takes his blood pressure, checks his pulse – and then he does something else with San’s wrist Hongjoong doesn’t know what is – before jotting down the results and cross-checking with their answers from before.</p><p> </p><p>Wooyoung is paying close attention, as if he knows what any of this is about – if Hongjoong’s lost, then Wooyoung surely isn’t much better. But he tries. He follows the officer’s actions with his eyes, tightening his hold on San’s hand until he’s told to stop in case it interferes with the examination.</p><p> </p><p>Seonghwa also pays close attention, standing awkwardly behind the couch and rocking on his heels. Yunho isn’t too far off either, sitting cross-legged on a chair far too small for his long limbs as he chugs a bottle of water without taking his eyes off the spectacle.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong doesn’t know where Yeosang and Jongho went, but hopefully they’re using the wait to get out of their stage clothes and maybe even pack their stuff. Well – Yeosang, anyway. For Jongho’s part, Hongjoong really just hopes he doesn’t aggravate his ankle anymore, because he cannot deal with any more stress at the moment.</p><p> </p><p>In the end, the officer doesn’t find much – nothing life-threatening, he says, even though that does little to ease Hongjoong’s ire. Elevated blood pressure, symptoms of low blood-sugar and exhaustion – stress, most likely, he concludes from the brief examination, and leaves it to their discretion to pursue further treatment with a doctor. He does procure a bottle of juice for San when he wakes up, but disappointingly, doesn’t offer anything more. No magic solution or even comforting words.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong hates it. It doesn’t feel like it’s enough. San passed out on stage, nearly choked when they left, hasn’t woken up since, and all the medic can give them is a bottle of grape juice?</p><p> </p><p>He wants to go for a walk. Not like his walk with Seonghwa, but a long, long, lonely walk lasting for several days with no pain or insufficiencies or stress or anything.</p><p> </p><p>It just feels like too much. Too much of everything.</p><p> </p><p>So much that Hongjoong can’t even pinpoint everything that’s wrong, and he hates that more than anything.</p><p> </p><p>He’s so tired.</p><p> </p><p>When the officer leaves, Hongjoong tears of his jacket, barely noticing the layer of sweat making his shirt cling to his torso, and chucks it at the couch in frustration before sinking down in a chair again.</p><p> </p><p>He’s too fucking tired.</p><p> </p><p>From the couch, Wooyoung watches him with sad eyes and squeezes San’s hand a bit tighter.</p><p> </p><p>In the end, San does wake up, after only a few minutes or hours, Hongjoong doesn’t know. Time blurs together in a mess of hurried voices and tears and frustration. He refused to leave before San woke up on his own accord, and so they’ve just been lounging around in the changing rooms, trying to distract each other with snacks and poorly delivered jokes.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong had been busy trying to burn a hole in box of ramen with his eyes when he hears Wooyoung starting to talk from the couch.</p><p> </p><p>“Sannie!” He whispers, and while his voice is gentle, it’s enough to get everyone’s attention. “Hey, how are you feeling?”</p><p> </p><p>They all crowd around the couch, but no one says anything, waiting in anticipation for San’s answer.</p><p> </p><p>It takes a good minute of groans and moans and drawn out, tiny movements before San’s eyes finally open blearily. He looks around, his expression so confused and pitiful that Hongjoong wants to cry.</p><p> </p><p>“I think…” San starts, so quietly that Hongjoong almost doesn’t hear. “I…”</p><p> </p><p>He trails off with an odd look, pinching his eyes closed and swallowing heavily.</p><p> </p><p>“Sannie?” Wooyoung frowns, brushing the hair away from San’s forehead. “You alright?”</p><p> </p><p>Of course he isn’t alright, Hongjoong wants to say, they wouldn’t be here if he was –</p><p> </p><p>But then San whimpers pitifully, and in a flurry of trembling movements, he rolls off Wooyoung’s lap and the couch gracelessly, toppling to the floor before any of them manage to catch him. He falls over in a heavy heap of limbs and choked sounds, but somehow manages to rise to his knees almost immediately after, supporting himself on one arm on the floor.</p><p> </p><p>“San!” Hongjoong nearly shrieks, crouching next to him at the same time as Wooyoung reaches out to hold San’s free arm. “What – “</p><p> </p><p>But whatever question he has is cut off by a choking sound from San before he retches over the floor in front of the couch.</p><p> </p><p>It’s not much, because San hasn’t eaten anything all day, probably very little yesterday as well – it’s only water and acid. But it sounds painful and raw, the coughs and sputters harsh as he heaves over the little puddle on the floor. His arms are shaking and head hanging low, and it’s the single most miserable thing Hongjoong has ever seen.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, San,” he sighs forlornly and reaches out to support San’s shoulders. When no more coughs come, San’s breathing picks up harshly again, mixed with tiny whimpers and something akin to a sob. Hongjoong can easily feel the tremors running through his body, and it makes him terribly inadequate. He vaguely registers Seonghwa running off with a muttered excuse of something, but doesn’t pay much attention to it.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry,” San croaks weakly and something else drips to the floor, spit or more vomit, maybe. His voice sounds scratchy and wrecked, and Hongjoong is hit by a burning rage because there is nothing San should be sorry for.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay,” he mutters instead, squeezing his shoulders gently. “Just get it out.”</p><p> </p><p>San shakes his head, and Hongjoong isn’t quite sure what that means, so he settles for squeezing his shoulders again as Wooyoung sinks down next to them.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s fine,” Wooyoung murmurs gently, ducking his head slightly to try and look San in the eye. Hongjoong doesn’t know if he succeeds, because San’s eyes are hidden by a sweaty, messy curtain of black hair and dejection, but he is grateful for Wooyoung’s attempts anyway. “Hey, you’re alright. It’s fine.”</p><p> </p><p>But San doesn’t seem convinced, shaking his head weakly once more as a shiver runs through him. It hurts to see him so pitiful, Hongjoong thinks. It hurts to think that this is their career – their group that has rendered him to this.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry,” San repeats, uselessly, horrendously, and Hongjoong doesn’t know what’s worse, that San’s so clearly sick and they’re unable to do anything about it, or that he still thinks he has something to apologize for.</p><p> </p><p>“Stop it,” he says, trying his best not to sound angry. “It’s not your fault, you did great. You’re fine. It’s going to be over soon.”</p><p> </p><p>He sees Seonghwa coming back in the corner of his eyes, carrying tissues and a plastic bag.</p><p> </p><p>Cleaning – typical Seonghwa.</p><p> </p><p>But this time, it’s almost more welcome than normal, and Hongjoong smiles up at him gratefully.</p><p> </p><p>Wooyoung must notice too, because he only glances up at Seonghwa before reaching out to cup San’s cheek, unminding of saliva or vomit or sweat.</p><p> </p><p>“Sannie, do you think you can get up?” He asks carefully. “Just back up on the couch. Sitting on the floor isn’t very nice.”</p><p> </p><p>San shudders, but after a brief pause, he nods carefully.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait,” Hongjoong keeps one hand on San’s shoulders and reaches out to grab a water bottle from a nearby table. San, obediently, doesn’t move, doesn’t even look up as Hongjoong unscrews the cork and presses the water bottle into his hand just like he had done earlier that day.</p><p> </p><p>San takes a sharp breath. “Hyung – “</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t have to drink it,” Hongjoong says, quickly. “Just rinse your mouth a bit. It will help, I promise. Seonghwa – “</p><p> </p><p>“Spit it out here, Sannie,” Seonghwa offers the bag, catching up quickly. “We’ll take care of it.”</p><p> </p><p>For a beat, San doesn’t even move. Seems to be thinking, considering, and his arms are trembling.</p><p> </p><p>Then he peers up at Hongjoong through his bangs, pitifully. He looks humiliated, and sad, and helpless, and Hongjoong hates it so much. But he understands.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re fine,” he murmurs quietly. “It’s okay. We don’t mind.”</p><p> </p><p>Slowly, ever so slowly, San sits back in his heels, taking deep breaths to steady himself. Wooyoung moves with him, keeping his arms around his shoulders to steady him as he trembles.</p><p> </p><p>When San accepts the bottle of water and begins to rinse his mouth slowly, it’s plain as day that it’s the single most difficult thing he has ever done. His cheeks flush red with fever and shame, and even the tiny mouthful of water seems to weigh him down heavily. Hongjoong can practically see San debating whether to spit it out in Seonghwa’s waiting bag or swallow just to preserve some semblance of pride.</p><p> </p><p>But when Seonghwa inches the bag closer, San seems to lose the battle with himself.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t even spit properly, just bows his head and kind of lets his mouth open for the water to fall out.</p><p> </p><p>Immediately after, Yunho is there with a tissue, and Hongjoong takes it to dab around San’s mouth quickly.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s perfect, thank you, San,” he mumbles quietly as San collapses into Wooyoung’s arms, too weak and shamed to do anything else. Wooyoung must realize, because he’s quick to tuck San’s head underneath his chin, rocking him slightly as if would help hide him from the world.</p><p> </p><p>It’s heartbreaking.</p><p> </p><p>This day just needs to end immediately.</p><p> </p><p>They quietly clean up, Hongjoong doing his best to distance himself from the fact that they are using disposable tissues to clean up whatever was left in San’s stomach after the worst 24 hours he’s likely ever experienced. One staff member coming over to assist them wordlessly, while Wooyoung stubbornly keeps San folded against his chest. It’s not like Wooyoung to be so protective, but Hongjoong is grateful that he’s stepping up to the task when needed.</p><p> </p><p>It’s a sad affair, really.</p><p> </p><p>Once they’re done, Hongjoong quickly leaves to get changed and encourages the others to do the same, save for Wooyoung, still cradling San on the floor. That’s fine – Hongjoong wouldn’t dream of breaking that up.</p><p> </p><p>When he’s shrugging out of his shirt, he finds himself wondering if things will go back to normal tomorrow. Or the next day they perform. Will everyone remember this – what happened today – and be affected by it? Will they go out on stage, as unapologetic?</p><p> </p><p>It’s not the first time someone has performed while sick. Or injured, or just generally not feeling their best.</p><p> </p><p>It’s to be expected – it’s a part of the business. They’ve always been able to shrug it off with an acknowledgement that everyone has bad days, and that’s okay.</p><p> </p><p>But it hasn’t ever been this awful afterwards.</p><p> </p><p>Will that mean anything? Or is it just a natural progression of pushing limits?</p><p> </p><p>Maybe this will be commonplace for them in the future. Maybe next time, it will be Seonghwa – Seonghwa, who’s cursed with a sicklier body than the rest of them, or maybe Yeosang – Yeosang, terrified of being inadequate already. Or maybe Yunho, who’s always spreading happiness amongst the rest of them –</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong shakes his head and catches himself standing frozen in the changing room. Zoning out.</p><p> </p><p>He shouldn’t think about what ifs, and how longs. It doesn’t help.</p><p> </p><p>Or does it? Maybe he could have predicted this if only –</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck,” he groans out loud, rubbing his hands over his face. He can’t go down that road. He can’t.</p><p> </p><p>“Hongjoong-hyung?” Jongho’s voice sounds concerned through the booth doors. “Are you… Okay?”</p><p> </p><p>And Hongjoong hates it – hates how Jongho’s voice hesitates around the word okay, as if that’s too much to expect, as if it’s optimistic to ask.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine,” he grunts, clenching and unclenching his fists once. Twice. “Just frustrated.”</p><p> </p><p>A beat.</p><p> </p><p>“Sure,” Jongho agrees, and it sounds a bit sad, but he understands, of course he does, and doesn’t press further.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong angrily steps out of his pants and finds his change of jeans before he can get any more thoughts through his head.</p><p> </p><p>He barely bothers to pack his bag – just shoves his jacket and shoes and notebook back down into a crumpled mess inside – before stomping over to the couch again to see that Wooyoung and San hasn’t moved much. Wooyoung’s eyes are drooping slightly, the movement of his fingers slow as he rubs small, soothing motions over San’s shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>When Hongjoong steps into his line of sight, he looks up with big, wet eyes. He nods down at San and taps the back of his hand against his own forehead, something Hongjoong thinks means San’s still got a fever.</p><p> </p><p>No surprise there.</p><p> </p><p>“You need to get changed, Wooyoung,” Hongjoong says softly, taking note of Wooyoung’s fingers curling around San’s shirt.</p><p> </p><p>“I – “ Wooyoung starts, but one stern look from Hongjoong kills the argument immediately. “Okay. But just…”</p><p> </p><p>He trails off and glances down at San again, who’s barely stirring. Hongjoong isn’t entirely sure if he’s noticed the conversation.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course,” Hongjoong tries to smile in what he hopes is a reassuring manner, but he knows it might look more like a grimace or scowl.</p><p> </p><p>Wooyoung will understand anyway.</p><p> </p><p>So Hongjoong kneels down next to them, shaking San’s shoulder slightly to get his attention. Wooyoung follows his movements carefully, but doesn’t interrupt or complain. He just marginally loosens his hold when San’s eyes blink open blearily, looking at Hongjoong pitifully.</p><p> </p><p>“Hyung,” he croaks, and Hongjoong’s throat feels tight again.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on,” he says gently, reaching out to hold one of San’s hands. “Let’s move to the coach. It’s much more comfortable.”</p><p> </p><p>San hums quietly in agreement, and to his credit, he does his best to stand upright from the floor. But in the end, it’s mostly Hongjoong and Wooyoung supporting one arm each until Hongjoong can settle down with San next to him. Wooyoung leaves without making a fuss, only casting one longing, sad look at his best friend crumpled on a waiting couch.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong appreciates his discretion.</p><p> </p><p>He’s not sure what San makes of the exchange, but instead of letting him comment on his change of pillow, Hongjoong settles for tucking San against this side with one arm slung over his shoulder, and presses a gentle kiss to the top of his head.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re strong, Sannie,” he murmurs into his hair. “Don’t forget that. You’re so strong.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not today,” San mumbles weakly, and Hongjoong doesn’t think he’s ever heard something so self-deprecating, but he won’t have any of it.</p><p> </p><p>“Especially today,” he insists firmly. “Relax, now. We’ll go home soon.”</p><p> </p><p>San takes another shaky breath, struggling to relax even in Hongjoong’s hold, even with how little energy he has left.</p><p> </p><p>And then it happens, what Hongjoong has been dreading for a while now.</p><p> </p><p>San cries.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong has never seen him cry, and it’s awful.</p><p> </p><p>He knows some of the other members have – in dark hours of the night, far away from prying eyes. But Hongjoong hasn’t. Not until today.</p><p> </p><p>For how naïve and insecure San can be, he’s always persevered, always remained positive and hardworking and brave – his tenacity is his greatest asset, in Hongjoong’s opinion. It’s a quality he admires and strives for himself, and he is proud to see it in San.</p><p> </p><p>But that only makes the sight of the tears so, so much more heartbreaking, and more than anything, Hongjoong wishes there was something he could do to make it stop.</p><p> </p><p>There isn’t.</p><p> </p><p>It’s nothing big or dramatic, no piercing sobs to consume the room and everyone in it. Instead, San cries small kitten tears on Hongjoong’s shoulder, soft and broken and simply too exhausted to do anything else.</p><p> </p><p>That doesn’t make it any less heartbreaking, and Hongjoong hates it, because he hates seeing San give up on himself like this. It’s not angry, it’s just defeated. Pained.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay, Sannie,” he mumbles, futilely, and he almost regrets the empty words of comfort, because they are a lie. It’s not okay that he’s pushed himself too far. It’s not okay that no one else seems to care. It’s not okay that come tomorrow, things will be exactly the same.</p><p> </p><p>But San hasn’t done anything wrong, and he is not weak, and that’s the most important part. If nothing else, Hongjoong desperately wants San to understand and accept that.</p><p> </p><p>He doubts that’s going to happen.</p><p> </p><p>There is nothing else for Hongjoong to do, so he settles for just humming softly in San’s ear, whispering soft reassurances from time to the and gently brushing the hair away when it falls into his eyes. It feels enormously insufficient, but he’s all out of ideas and options.</p><p> </p><p>San doesn’t even protest any more.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong isn’t sure if he’s fainted or just sleeping, and he’s currently debating if they should send him to ER or if it’s too much fuss – better to just let him rest at home, where he’s comfortable. If they send him to ER, they’re probably just going to tell them what they already know; exhaustion, overworked, stressed. Nothing new. No magical pill to fix it, no bandaid to cover the hurts.</p><p> </p><p>And they’re not going to give the group anything to do about it besides catching what small breaks are available to them between recordings, rehearsals, fittings.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong sighs, rubbing his cheek gently against San’s hair.</p><p> </p><p>What if it’s something serious? What if something’s really wrong with San – if he’s caught a virus or something, and it’s not just exhaustion? What if he’s sick with something much more than the everyday idol strain - </p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong feels his hand forming a fist.</p><p> </p><p>He almost – <em>almost</em> wishes it is something more, because then San would be whisked off to the hospital in a heartbeat. He knows it’s terrible, because if it was anything else, well, then that would be a problem, too. Pneumonia or viral infections or anything – it’s not exactly comfortable either, but at least that’s something that would be taken seriously. San would get his earned break, he’d be medicated, looked after.</p><p> </p><p>He would be given a pass.</p><p> </p><p>But exhaustion and burnouts aren’t considered legitimate excuses in the industry, and Hongjoong hates that, because looking down at San against his side – he knows it’s horrible enough.</p><p> </p><p>It’s tiring, being an idol. And it’s especially tiring for people like San, who have no inhibitions, who always goes on stage as if it’s their last performance in life.</p><p> </p><p>In times like this, Hongjoong really wishes San could show a little bit of restraint, but he knows that’s not going to happen. Part of what makes San, San, is his intensity and relentlessness. He’s not going to give that up. As loathe as he is to admit it, Hongjoong knows it’s because San thinks that’s his responsibility in the group, to be so energetic and fiery. San thinks it’s his duty to do something to stand out – just like Mingi does for his rapping, Jongho for singing, Wooyoung for dancing, and so on. He’s made a little niche for himself, created a role in the group that’s filled by him and him alone, and now he’s trying his best to uphold that self-given duty.</p><p> </p><p>In Hongjoong’s opinion, it’s his duty to stay healthy and happy, first and foremost.</p><p> </p><p>But that’s not a conversation he can have without sounding patronizing, and no one wants that.</p><p> </p><p>So here they are instead.</p><p> </p><p>And in lieu of any miraculous solution to their problems, all Hongjoong can do is hold San tighter. As if shielding him from the rest of the world, the hard, demanding world.</p><p> </p><p>As if Hongjoong has any kind of power over his group – their wellbeing, their actions, their reception.</p><p> </p><p>He feels tears stinging at his eyes, but refuses to let them fall.</p><p> </p><p>He knows this helplessness isn’t his fault. He knows it’s just how the industry works – that it doesn’t reflect poorly on him, not at all. He’s just another pawn in the game, played by actors much, much bigger than them.</p><p> </p><p>Still.</p><p> </p><p>The feeling of inadequacy is terrible, haunting, and especially now that he sees his members fall down around him without being able to do anything to help.</p><p> </p><p>How many more?</p><p> </p><p>How long until it’s not something they can recover from?</p><p> </p><p>He knows his thoughts are spiraling, again and again and again, as they’ve done all day – all day, he’s questioned himself, his decision, the industry, their team, and he knows backing himself into a mental corner isn’t going to give him any answers, he knows that there are no answers, otherwise no one would have this problem anymore, and then -</p><p> </p><p>“Hongjoong-ah.”</p><p> </p><p>He looks up at the call of his name, seeing Seonghwa hovering besides the couch somewhat hesitantly. He looks like he has something to say, something burning on the tip of his tongue –</p><p> </p><p>“What?” He doesn’t mean for it to sound so harsh. Maybe he’s just tired.</p><p> </p><p>Just like everyone else.</p><p> </p><p>Seonghwa raises an eyebrow at him, and Hongjoong can’t for the life of him figure out what that expression is supposed to mean.</p><p> </p><p>“How is Sannie?” Seonghwa asks, eventually, gaze shifting from Hongjoong to San.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s completely out,” Hongjoong winces, his grip tightening just slightly. “It’s… I’m trying to decide if there’s a point to taking him to the hospital. He’s still got a fever, and he’s probably dehydrated like fuck, but at least he’s breathing normally now.”</p><p> </p><p>“It feels absurd not to,” Seonghwa points out. “He nearly passed out on stage, and then in the corridor – “</p><p> </p><p>“I know, I was there,” Hongjoong cuts him off tiredly. “But what do you think they’re gonna say? And how do you think that’s going to make San feel?”</p><p> </p><p>“None of us are doctors, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa sighs.</p><p> </p><p>“No, but we don’t have to be to know what this is,” Hongjoong says, wrinkling his nose. “And the bigger fuss we make out of it, the more disappointed in himself San will be. And I don’t want that. Not after today.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then what do you think will happen tomorrow?” Seonghwa asks cautiously. “What about the next schedule? What about the next time someone has to perform while – “</p><p> </p><p>“I know, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong grits his teeth. “I know. I’ll… I’ll talk to them.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are they going to take you seriously, though?” Seonghwa continues, glancing down at San sadly. “If we don’t take San to the hospital today, won’t it be easy for them to just brush it off? Say it wasn’t so bad after all?”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe,” Hongjoong sighs. “But that’s…”</p><p> </p><p>He trails off, uncertain of what to say. It’s not that he disagrees with Seonghwa; the thought has struck him as well, that San’s determination to finish the stage can very well be used as an argument for how far they should be able to push their limits even on bad days.</p><p> </p><p>It’s shitty, and he hates it, but it isn’t San’s fault. And he doesn’t want to make things worse for San, to drag him around and make a fuss of his condition just to prove a point.</p><p> </p><p>“San deserves to go home,” he settles for saying, feeling the inadequacy of his conclusion like a bitter taste on his tongue. “I promise I will do whatever I can tomorrow, but tonight, I think we all just need to go home and sleep. Going to the hospital just for the sake of going isn’t doing anyone any good. He can barely stand, Seonghwa. I don’t want him to – “</p><p> </p><p>He trails off with a shuddering breath.</p><p> </p><p>“I just want to tuck him into his bed and let him sleep for a week,” he settles for saying, unrealistic and unhelpful as it is. “If going to the hospital will help, we should, but I don’t… I just think it won’t make a difference if we go tonight or tomorrow. And everyone else are tired as well. This is just too much, for all of us. Don’t you agree?”</p><p> </p><p>Seonghwa sighs heavily, and Hongjoong can practically see the weight on his shoulders – if not quite as heavy as Hongjoong’s, it’s still a lot.</p><p> </p><p>Being the eldest grates on Seonghwa just as being the leader pushes on Hongjoong.</p><p> </p><p>Just like the desire to be perfect has pressed San into the ground.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Seonghwa says eventually, and bless him, he does his best to smile for Hongjoong. “You’re probably right. It’s… It’s been a rough day.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s putting it mildly,” Hongjoong chuckles darkly, squeezing San’s shoulder instinctively. “I don’t want to make this into a huge deal, but I think, tomorrow, we… Maybe we should talk to the members. Just a few words, you know.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” Seonghwa nods slowly. “Just – just acknowledge it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Something like that,” Hongjoong agrees with a small snort.</p><p> </p><p>Nothing much happens after that, not to Hongjoong at least. He just sits on the couch, holding San against him, letting his head run wild. It’s painful, and does nothing to ease his guilt, anger, worries – all of it just flows unmitigated, and each new angle is another painful stab to his chest.</p><p> </p><p>The others gather around quietly, sending him looks of sadness, worry and exhaustion. He wishes there was anything he could say to appease them, to make things right, but he doesn’t know what.</p><p> </p><p>He’s too tired to try.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t think anyone would believe him, anyway.</p><p> </p><p>A manager comes to pick them up eventually, shepherding them out with sympathetic eyes. They manage to wake San long enough to stumble the short way into the van, but then he’s out like a light again. No one is surprised. He’s still feverish and pale, and he breaths just short of wheezing the entire time, but it’s steady, so they collect their blessings and move on.</p><p> </p><p>When the van finally pulls up to the dorm building, Yunho is quick to offer his assistance in getting San up to the dorms without too much fuss. It ends with them draping San across his back, while Hongjoong and Seonghwa supports from the side. Yunho is more than strong enough to carry him up the stairs, although it’s heavier than just along a straight corridor – but it’s mostly a safety precaution because San isn’t really coherent enough to keep himself upright.</p><p> </p><p>Wooyoung runs ahead to open doors and move shoes out of the way, while Yeosang stays behind to make sure Jongho doesn’t trip over himself on the way.</p><p> </p><p>They’re uncharacteristically silent and morose, but no one addresses it.</p><p> </p><p>Once inside, Hongjoong quickly toes off his shoes and makes an executive decision.</p><p> </p><p>“San?” He reaches out to squeeze San’s shoulder. “Are you with me?”</p><p> </p><p>San groans quietly in response. Yunho snorts, and Hongjoong can’t help but smile as well.</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s go take a shower,” he says gently, knowing fully well that San would prefer to go to sleep immediately, but he’ll feel much better in the morning if he’s at least had a rinse right now.</p><p> </p><p>And San doesn’t even protest, just nodding weakly as Hongjoong leads them to the bathroom.</p><p> </p><p>“Wooyoung,” he calls out softly on the way, smiling a little when he sees the blonde head appear around the doorframe immediately. “Would you grab some fresh clothes for Sannie, please?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course,” Wooyoung nods, eager to help, and heads to Yunho and San’s shared room.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry,” San mumbles into Yunho’s shoulder, and Hongjoong has to resist the urge to shove him, knowing full well that San isn’t in any condition to be manhandled, but damn, this misplaced guilt is tearing at his nerves.</p><p> </p><p>“Stop that, you don’t have to be sorry,” he says instead, trying his best to sound gentle through his frustration. It’s not San’s fault. “You haven’t done anything wrong. We’re just worried about you.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s a bit of a tightrope he’s walking, trying to comfort San without accidentally triggering another wave of irrational guilt. San probably thinks being sick makes him an inconvenience, or pathetic, or something. It doesn’t, but Hongjoong doesn’t want to say it out loud in case San’s delirious brain hasn’t figured out exactly why he’s feeling guilty yet.</p><p> </p><p>He really hopes they have got through the worst of it today. Hopes that this will give them all more time to rest and recover, that San will have the time to heal and get back on his feet without blaming himself too much.</p><p> </p><p>That’s a lot to wish for, he knows.</p><p> </p><p>But it’s a conundrum for another day, anyway. He doesn’t have the energy to think about it today.</p><p> </p><p>Instead, he leads Yunho into the shared bathroom and makes him set San down on the floor. He sways for a second, but Hongjoong grabs his shoulder and keeps him in place.</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks,” he smiles briefly at Yunho. “We won’t be long. Get something to eat while you wait, Seonghwa can prepare something from the leftovers.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure, hyung,” Yunho nods and brushes some hair out of San’s eyes. “Let us know if you need anything, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course,” Hongjoong agrees easily, hoping he won’t have to.</p><p> </p><p>When Yunho leaves, he tries to get San’s attention again.</p><p> </p><p>“Sannie?” He murmurs.</p><p> </p><p>“Hm?” San blinks up at him blearily. It’s weird when he has to look up at Hongjoong. Hongjoong, for all his woes about his height, doesn’t like it.</p><p> </p><p>“Shower, right?” He says. “Come on, I’ll help you.”</p><p> </p><p>He deposits San on the toilet lid, and for half a second, he fears San will topple over again when he start sinking down, but San just sighs heavily and puts his head in his hands.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong bites his lip and starts to unbutton his shirt.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, San,” he says quietly, feeling the pit in his stomach sink deeper. “I know it’s not ideal, but we just need to rinse down, it’s going to –</p><p> </p><p>“Hyung.” San cuts him off, voice thick and quivering, but surprisingly loud in the small bathroom. “Don’t.”</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong blinks. “Don’t what?”</p><p> </p><p>“I…” San draws a shaky breath. God, he looks so vulnerable. “Let me do this by myself.”</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong lets his hands fall down slowly as he thinks. San hasn’t moved, is still sitting pitifully slumped on the toilet seat, but his conviction had been real.</p><p> </p><p>“Sannie…” He starts slowly, cautiously. “You can’t even stand… It’s okay to get help, I don’t mind – “</p><p> </p><p>“No,” San shakes his head and huffs. “No, I know, but… Please. I can do it. Please let me do this on my own.”</p><p> </p><p>He raises his head to look at Hongjoong, and his eyes are shining with tears again. The sight rips at Hongjoong’s heartstrings, and he would give San the world if it could make him happy again.</p><p> </p><p>“Please give me this,” San’s voice falls to something like a broken whisper, and Hongjoong knows what he’s asking. It’s not much. It’s just a sliver of dignity.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe that’s all Hongjoong can give him today.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” he concedes with a sigh. “Okay. But, I’m not going anywhere, I’ll be right here – let me know if you’re… Lightheaded, or if you need anything, or…”</p><p> </p><p>He trails off, but San nods with a small, grateful smile. The tug of his lips makes his cheeks dimple and a single tear falls down.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course,” he hums. “Thank you, hyung.”</p><p> </p><p>He helps San strip out of his clothing – his performance clothes, sweaty and messy and crumpled – and discards them in a corner. San is shaky on his legs at best, and falls against Hongjoong more than once, but eventually, they get it all off. Nudity is something they are all long past bothering with, but Hongjoong still diverts his eyes slightly as San strips his underwear and stumbles into the shower with one hand against the wall.</p><p> </p><p>That was a part of the deal, anyway.</p><p> </p><p>Wooyoung knocks on the door at some point with a spare set of clothing. His eyes are wide and red and his jaw sets firmly as he looks at San struggling to get out of his clothes when his limbs just won’t cooperate. Hongjoong quickly thanks him and ushers him out again with a look. Wooyoung takes the hint.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong keeps an eye on San through the shower curtain, just to make sure he’s staying upright, not slipping, not collapsing –</p><p> </p><p>It’s strange to see San, usually so unsettlingly in control of his own body, just struggle with something as simple as staying upright and turning on the shower knob. Hongjoong sees his shadow move sluggishly and awkwardly, so far from his normally terrific coordination.</p><p> </p><p>When it’s clear San isn’t going to fall down right away, Hongjoong leans against the wall and lets himself slide to the floor. He tries to suppress his hundredth heavy sigh for the day, but as he hears San turn on the water stream, he can’t contain it anymore.</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck,” he mouths to himself as the dam breaks. He’s been teetering on the edge of it all evening, but now – now he can’t hold back. He cries.</p><p> </p><p>It’s ugly.</p><p> </p><p>He grits his teeth together until his jaw hurts, but it doesn’t stop the pressure from his throat, the pressure behind his eyes, and the heavy pull in his chest gnaws relentlessly, and now, Hongjoong is the one feeling like he can hardly breathe.</p><p> </p><p>It only makes him feel more powerless, and that makes him more angry, because this isn’t helping anyone, but he’s just so goddamn tired, and finally, no one is looking at him for guidance.</p><p> </p><p>It’s not even a relief. He stops fighting the wall keeping it all locked up, but it doesn’t really make a difference except easing that pressure, which is so, so insignificant in between everything else. Crying doesn’t make him feel any better, or lighter. It’s supposed to be cleansing and cathartic, but it’s not, it doesn’t do anything to ease Hongjoong’s heart, and he cries a little bit extra at that.</p><p> </p><p>At the very least, it doesn’t make anything worse either.</p><p> </p><p>That’s the only comfort he can think of to keep himself from full on sobbing and alerting San, only a few feet away. That’s a disaster he refuses to create.</p><p> </p><p>He does his best to swallow the tears and brace himself. San will be done soon, and Hongjoong has to help him get to bed.</p><p> </p><p>Soon.</p><p> </p><p>Soon the day will end, and not a minute too early. Tomorrow will be better, Hongjoong thinks and drags his palm across his eyes. No one will see him cry, not today, or tomorrow, because tomorrow, things will be better, and there will be no reason to cry. He will make sure of it.</p><p> </p><p>He has to.</p><p> </p><p>It’s a promise he can only make to himself, and even the notion of failing sends a spike of panic through his chest, but he forces it down. He has to be strong now. For the rest of the night, he has to be strong.</p><p> </p><p>He can do that.</p><p> </p><p>He can do that tomorrow, too, he thinks, clenching his fist. And the day after. And the day after.</p><p> </p><p>His group is so, so precious and strong. He has to be strong for them. He has to.</p><p> </p><p>He repeats the thought to himself like a mantra, and grabs a fistful of his shirt to dab around his eyes quickly, hoping there won’t be any other visual signs of his distress.</p><p> </p><p>Not a moment too soon, because the water turns off as Hongjoong takes a deep, steadying breath, satisfied to feel no hitch on the intake.</p><p> </p><p>“Sannie?” He says carefully, making sure to enunciate the name properly, not even a hint of a mumble. “You okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm.” San exhales in lieu of answering properly, staggering out of the shower with an arm braced against the wall again.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong jumps up and grabs the nearest towel. “Here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you…” San accepts his help without protest, letting himself be wrapped up in the towel before sitting down on the toilet lid again. Hongjoong finds another towel, smaller, and starts ruffling his hair.</p><p> </p><p>It’s strangely domestic, in a way, like Hongjoong really is the older brother taking care of a younger sibling. The thought warms him a little, because there is something familiar and safe about that image. Something hopeful.</p><p> </p><p>San even whines a little when Hongjoong gets too rough, but it’s not pitiful and sad like before, just exasperated, and it’s enough to make him chuckle.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, just don’t want you to drip water all over your pillow,” he says, and San hums in acknowledgement. “Do you want something to eat before bed? The others are having leftovers.”</p><p> </p><p>He thinks he knows the answer already, but that doesn’t stop him from getting disappointed when he feels San shake his head underneath the towel.</p><p> </p><p>“Just bed, please.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Hongjoong concedes, resigned. “Bed it is.”</p><p> </p><p>San doesn’t say anything after that, and Hongjoong soon figures the towel has done his job and discards it in the laundry bin.</p><p> </p><p>When he looks back, he finds San’s eyes on him, wide and clear and shiny.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong frowns. “What?”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you for taking care of me, hyung,” San says, and it’s almost too sincere, too raw – there’s not even a hint of a tease there, which is almost unnerving, because there is always a cheekiness to San, always a spark of something mischievous. “For taking care of all of us, but… Especially me, today.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course, San,” Hongjoong smiles, fondly. “I shouldn’t have made you perform to begin with. You clearly haven’t been well today.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, it was my fault,” San shakes his head slowly but still sways a little with the movement, and Hongjoong reaches out to stabilize him with a hand to his shoulder. “You gave me lots of opportunities, but I insisted. I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>That’s true, Hongjoong knows, but sometimes, the boys don’t know any better, and maybe he should have accounted for that. Maybe he should have pushed harder.</p><p> </p><p>It doesn’t matter now. It doesn’t matter until the next time someone’s not entirely up for performing but forces themselves on stage nonetheless.</p><p> </p><p>“You just wanted to do your best,” Hongjoong says gently, hoping San doesn’t take it as condescension, because it really isn’t. “I can’t blame you for that. Sometimes we just make the wrong calls. All of us. We all just… Have to learn from our mistakes.”</p><p> </p><p>Even if he doesn’t quite manage to convince himself, he hopes the words hit something in San.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe they do, because San smiles blearily up at him, trusting and pretty and innocent, and Hongjoong’s heart swells with affection. Maybe the cracks from the day start to mend a little.</p><p> </p><p>San looks so young without the make-up and his aggressive performance expressions. Instead of accentuating his sharp features, the little, earnest smile makes him look soft and delicate. It just makes Hongjoong feel more protective of San, of his team.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay…” San’s eyes flit across Hongjoong’s face, his smile falling into a frown. “But… Please don’t cry for me, hyung. You don’t deserve that.”</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong can’t keep the surprise on his face. Was it that obvious? He tosses a glance towards the mirror, but it doesn’t show much – he didn’t cry long enough for his eyes to swell, or his cheeks to blotch.</p><p> </p><p>But of course San catches it, like a hero detective picking out impossible clues. San, feverish and tired and sick. He still notices everything.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong sighs heavily and pets San’s still damp hair. “I can’t promise that, Sannie.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll try to better,” San pouts, and Hongjoong has to bite his lip. </p><p> </p><p>I know you will, he thinks. And that might be the problem.</p><p> </p><p>He’s not sure if San interprets <em>do better </em>as work harder, or look after himself better.</p><p> </p><p>He’ll have to make sure San really gets it, at some point. Not tonight. Tonight, he feels a headache coming, and he doesn't want to start a new discussion neither he nor San is able to deal with.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s all I can ask for,” he settles for saying, hoping it’s the right thing, because he doesn’t want San going to bed with a heavy heart, no matter how exhausted he is. “Let’s get you dressed now. You’ll get cold like this.”</p><p> </p><p>San doesn’t say anything, but the small, wavering smile he gives makes Hongjoong think that at least, it could be worse. Maybe San doesn’t have to go into a self-deprecating downwards spiral over this – it would be typical San, unfortunately, and there is a nagging voice in the back of his head saying San will be a desperate wreck in the morning, when he’s more rested and coherent.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong tries to ignore it as he helps San stand up and dry himself off properly. His movements are still slow and imbalanced, but eventually, they manage to get him into a clean t-shirt and joggers. Hongjoong even slaps some moisturizer on San’s face for good measure, earning him a small chuckle.</p><p> </p><p>They stumble out of the bathroom together, Hongjoong doing his best to support San with an arm around his waist and the other hefting San across his shoulder. It’s clumsy and awkward, but it suffices for the short trek to San’s bedroom. San’s legs almost give out underneath him a couple of times, but Hongjoong catches him in time.</p><p> </p><p>Getting San up on the top bunk, though, is a monumental challenge. San insists, in a groggy, not-at-all convincing voice, that it’s okay, it’s only three steps, he can make it, but he almost tumbles down when he tries to climb the ladder the first time. He makes it the second time, with Hongjoong’s help, and Hongjoong doesn’t think he’s ever seen a more relieving sight than San finally tucked in and dozing off in his own bed.</p><p> </p><p>“If you need anything at all during the night, you let Yunho know, okay?” Hongjoong instructs quietly as he leans over the railing, just like he’d done this morning. He cards his fingers through San’s hair, pushing it out of his eyes although San has long since closed them. He’s still warm, still trembling ever so slightly in his exhaustion, but it’s okay, because now he can rest. Now he can get better.</p><p> </p><p>“Mmm.” San agrees with a hum. Hongjoong doesn’t know if he is even processing the words anymore – probably not.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m proud of you, San,” he says anyway, feeling it important to say. “You’re strong. You’ll be fine.”</p><p> </p><p>“G’night, hyung.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good night, San.”</p><p> </p><p>He waits until San’s breathing has evened out – precious, even breaths, so unlike the terrifying gasps from the hallway just a couple of hours ago – before leaving, making sure to turn the lights off afterwards. It’s probably useless, since he imagines San could sleep through anything right about now, but it feels more right. More normal.</p><p> </p><p>He barely stops by the kitchen, where the others are having a light meal, to tell them that San’s in bed and resting. It prompts a brief round of questioning, but Hongjoong brushes them off with short answers before heading to the shower himself.</p><p> </p><p>The warm water feels heavenly.</p><p> </p><p>He understands why San had been a bit more coherent after showering. It’s refreshing, comfortable, soothing to his aching muscles and heavy shoulders. For a moment, he feels untouchable.</p><p> </p><p>It may just be an illusion, but Hongjoong lets himself indulge in it, for a moment. He thinks he deserves it after today.</p><p> </p><p>Once he steps out of the shower, the rest of the evening passes by in a blur as he moves on autopilot. He makes sure the rest of the members have their time in the bathroom, have all eaten, don’t have any immediate worries – apart from the obvious elephant in the room, which he unfortunately cannot do anything about. He promises that everything will be fine, and that’s that.</p><p> </p><p>After some badgering from Seonghwa, he eats the food they saved from him, and it’s only then he notices how hungry he’s been.</p><p> </p><p>The irony.</p><p> </p><p>Thankfully, the members are cooperative tonight, and easily agrees to any request he poses to them. Be quick in the bathroom, go to bed, no noise. Wooyoung pouts when he’s told he isn’t allow to go cuddle San, but for once, he gives in without argument. The rest of them have no complaints or inputs, and Yunho, especially, is very understanding and promises to discreetly check up on San before going to sleep.</p><p> </p><p>Bless Yunho, Hongjoong thinks.</p><p> </p><p>It’s a relief when he can finally fall back into his own bed and breathe.</p><p> </p><p>It’s been a long day. A long, bad day.</p><p> </p><p>He has to make tomorrow better. He has to. He has no guarantee that he will, or that he can – but if he tries to be rational, in his tired, flighty mind, he thinks the management were almost as scared as them today, because if San had collapsed just a few seconds earlier, it would have been nothing short of a scandal, and that’s something they cannot afford at this point –</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong exhales sharply.</p><p> </p><p>He needs to stop.</p><p> </p><p>He needs to sleep.</p><p> </p><p>“You alright?” Seonghwa’s voice travels through the dark. Evidently, he hasn’t fallen asleep either.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Hongjoong replies. “It’s just, uh… What a day, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“What a day,” Seonghwa echoes thoughtfully.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a lot to take in.”</p><p> </p><p>“It is.”</p><p> </p><p>“I just hope San’s going to be okay,” Hongjoong winces. “He gave us a real scare.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you going to take him to the doctor?” Seonghwa sounds hesitant, and Hongjoong gets it.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not sure,” he says. “I haven’t decided… We’ll have to see tomorrow. I don’t… I can’t make that decision tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course.”</p><p> </p><p>Silence engulfs the room after that.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong tries to sleep. His head is pounding by now, but he shoves it away - it's a minor inconvenience, compared to everything else. He forces himself not to think of today, of the events of today, of tomorrow – of the members getting hurt and him being unable to stop it.</p><p> </p><p>There’s nothing he can do about it tonight, anyway.</p><p> </p><p>It doesn’t ease his mind, not entirely, but he’s too tired to stay awake. It’s not the first time he’s fallen asleep with gnawing worries. When he’s almost nodding off, Seonghwa speaks again.</p><p> </p><p>“For what it’s worth, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa says quietly, almost tentatively. “You’re a great leader. You did great today. No one could have made it any better.”</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong isn’t so sure if he believes him – he isn’t even sure if he <em>wants </em>to believe him.</p><p> </p><p>But he’s also not sure if it really matters, at the end of the day.</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks,” he says back just as quietly, because if nothing else, he knows Seonghwa means well, and he knows Seonghwa believes his own words. “Thanks, Seonghwa. That means a lot.”</p><p> </p><p>“No problem,” Seonghwa hums softly. “Go to sleep now. It’s been a long day.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure,” Hongjoong agrees readily. “Good night.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good night.”</p><p> </p><p>Both of them fall asleep after that, uneasy, restless and heavy-hearted, but too exhausted to stay awake.</p><p> </p><p>That’s the end of another day.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you made it this far, congrats, hope you're as frustrated as I am :(</p><p>I hope you're all staying safe, washing your hands, and not stressing about things beyond your control. It doesn't help, and will only make things worse.</p><p>Our boys are looking after each other, and if it's a silver lining these days, at least they are getting more rest and time to recover after an insane year. It's a small comfort, but better than nothing. &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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